


Ricochet of Fate

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: Ambiguously Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/F, Family Feels, Light Angst, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-20
Updated: 2011-01-20
Packaged: 2019-04-20 16:57:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 78,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14265534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Shelby and Beth connect with Rachel which reconnects Rachel with Quinn. Angst meter: Medium.*Ups and downs in Quinn and Rachel’s relationship. Mostly a relationship story. This has an ambiguously happy ending, but it’s happy. Really.**Minimal Quinn in first chapter, little more in second chapter and then she’s back in full swing in all the chapters after that.***Warnings for: a DV relationship which ends





	1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Ricochet of Fate  
**Author:** Sulkygeek  
**Rating:** NC17 at some parts, R for most.  
**Length:** 78, 700  
**Spoilers:** Through the current season  
**Summary:** Ups and downs in Quinn and Rachel’s relationship. Mostly a relationship story. This has an ambiguously happy ending, but it’s happy. Really.

* * *

 

Rachel could not believe she was willingly in an elementary school again, but at least she was getting paid this time around. NYU was expensive, and she was glad for a Work Study job that did not involve serving her fellow students in some capacity. Granted, she liked her fellow students well enough, but she didn’t want to be forced to be polite to them though polite was her default setting. It was kind of like community service-- once it was compulsory, like as a high school graduation requirement or whatever, she found it burdensome, even as she _liked_ donating her time.

She was glad she’d managed to secure this job for herself in which she tutored kids in reading during class time and helped the teacher during the once-a-week music class. She didn’t like kids much-- they tended to be dirty, frequently smelly and often seemed confused by her. Also, they had a high probability of spraying some type of disgusting bodily fluid on her and while she knew children were supposed to be small, she was still disturbed by people who were smaller than her. But she was glad for the job because she really needed the money. Financial aid from school and the occasional handout from a parent kept her from starving--but New York City had a very high cost of living and she was glad she found a legal way to make some money.

She smiled when the teacher she was assigned to introduced her as ‘Miss Rachel’ which caused the entire class to chorus ‘Hello, Miss Rachel!’ Rachel wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or roll her eyes. She was not one of those people who found kids cute-- she had to be careful about what she said in front of kids, young ears and all, and she was not a person known for having much of a filter between her brain and her mouth. Somehow she’d been assigned to first graders-- practically the youngest ones. She was completely freaked out and felt wholly unprepared because they were just beginning to learn to read in first grade. She cursed that 21 hour training-- it was clearly not enough.

School only recently come back into session and she was to work with each of the children individually for ten-to-fifteen minutes to give some individualized attention to keep the kids from falling behind. She and the teacher, Ms. McCormick arranged a schedule that revolved around her class schedule and though she wanted to try to come in for longer blocks of time, two or three days a week, it worked out that she’d come in five days a week for shorter periods.

The first round of kids she tutored were cute and all, but mostly uninteresting. Still, she tried to be as diligent as possible, emphasizing the stuff she learned in the training. It wasn’t feasible to expect her to get to all the kids in each session-- she was only in the classroom anywhere from one to three hours depending on the day, so once she was done for her first day, she waved at the teacher and quietly slipped out.

She went the next day and her entire session revolved around the music lesson. There wasn’t much one could teach a bunch of first graders about music in a New York City public school, so mostly she just sang songs with them and she had to admit their adulation over her voice felt pretty good. The hour finished up, and she made her discreet exit. She went back the next day and was mostly bored through her first four kids-- though she tried not to be. They were all really sweet and clearly wanted to do well in school. She wanted to encourage that, but it was hard to explain to a kid why English was such a funny language with so many words that just did not follow the rules.

Her fifth kid was a blond girl with hazel eyes who walked to the back table which served as Rachel’s work station and took a seat.

Rachel glanced at her list of kids Ms. McCormick wanted her to work with that day. Beth C.

“Hi Beth,” Rachel said. “I’m Rachel.”

Beth smiled. She had a couple teeth missing. She was adorable.

“Hi Miss Rachel. I’m Beth.” She stuck out her hand and gave Rachel a gap-toothed grin.

Rachel was so charmed she forgot to check if Beth’s hand was clean before she shook it. Luckily it was.

It was only her third day in the class and so she spent a little time each session getting to know the kids to establish some rapport before jumping in.

“You have a pretty voice,” Beth said.

Rachel grinned. “Thank you, so do you, Beth.” She smiled again. “Do you have a favorite book?”

Beth scowled. “No, I like singing more better.”

“Just better,” Rachel corrected automatically.

Beth looked at her blankly. “I like singing just better?”

“No, I--” Rachel trailed off. She had no idea how to explain it. “You don’t have to say ‘more better,’ say ‘better,’ okay?”

“But I do like singing more better than reading.”

Rachel smiled. “I know, but it’s like a rule, okay?”

Beth shrugged. “Okay. Can we sing instead of read?”

Rachel looked at her sympathetically. She wished they could sing instead of read, too, frankly. “Not today, Beth.”

Beth sighed. “Okay,” she said, sounding extremely resigned for a first grader.

Rachel suppressed a laugh because the kid definitely had a sense of theatricality. For a kid so reluctant to read, Beth was pretty good at it-- almost flawless with the Imagine It! reading materials Ms. McCormick gave her. She didn’t think Beth needed the extra attention considering some of the others students she’d seen who were really struggling, but Rachel didn’t want to address it with Ms. McCormick because Rachel didn’t want to risk a smart kid like Beth not getting enough attention and then falling behind because of it.

The rest of the kids she worked with that day were pretty average from what she’d seen.

By the end of the first week, Rachel had worked with each of the thirty five students and knew each of them by first name and first initial of their last name. There were three Rachels (Rachel G, Rachel K and Rachel W) and she’d bonded with each of them over it. There were a surprising number of Destinys-- four of them (Destiny C, Destiny Z, Destiny O, Destiny T) and two Amys. There was a shocking lack of Jennifers (zero!). There was a boy Sam and a girl Sam and all the kids were cute as hell and Rachel was much less intimidated by the whole thing when she left the school on Friday than when she walked into on Monday.

\--

“Are you stupid or something?” her roommate Crystal asked her when Rachel announced the job she found for herself. “Working with kids is terrible. I used to babysit and I think I still have PTSD from it. When I wake up wailing in my sleep after dreaming about reading ‘Hurry Harry Hurry’ for the hundredth time and I have flashbacks to being shit on, that’s PTSD right?”

“You needn’t be so dramatic,” Rachel said mildly.

Crystal actually gaped at her. “You’re telling me not to…” she trailed off. “Never mind. Anyway, children are gross little sociopaths.”

“It’s one of the higher paying Work Study jobs,” Rachel pointed out. “And children are not sociopaths.” She had to grant Crystal the ‘gross’ part though.

“Children generally don’t have much of a sense of morality which is practically the very definition of a sociopath. And working with kids is thankless. Believe me. You should just get some non-work study job like me and spare yourself the headache.”

“Work Study is the more logical route, Crystal. Not only do I get a paycheck for the hours I work, but Work Study pays into my tuition as well. It’s like getting two checks.”

“It’s going to suck, just you watch.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “My roommate, the human Magic ball. What else is in store for me, oh all-knowing roommate?”

“Ask again later.”

Rachel had to laugh.

Rachel was very glad Crystal seemed to be wrong-- at least, a week into it anyway. It still had time to suck, but she was optimistic it wouldn’t.

She’d lived with Crystal for the past three years, and they were good friends, but not so good that it would devastate her if their friendship blew up over their living arrangement. Crystal was trustworthy, respectful and easy-going and Rachel appreciated her deeply. But the girl could be a real negative Nelly sometimes, though Rachel thought having a great roommate was well worth the occasional bouts of cynicism. Still, she wondered if maybe Crystal jinxed her somehow-- the most rational parts of her mind told her not to put any stock into that kind of crap. But the other parts of her mind (which frankly outnumbered the rational bits) caused her to refer to _Macbeth_ as “the Scottish play” when she played Lady Macbeth during her junior year and press her forehead against a wall or door jam before every performance for at least a minute for good luck. If Crystal ended up jinxing her, Rachel would kill her. Or at least, freeze Crystal’s favorite bra-and-underwear set.  
\--

Rachel did not discover a love for teaching or anything, but she had to admit to herself it wasn’t as bad as she thought it was going to be and the kids were nowhere near as filthy or gross as she predicted. The highlight of her week was the music hour-- granted most of the kids could not carry a tune although a few of them like Beth C. were surprisingly really good, but they all seemed so joyful and unabashed in the glee they took in singing. Sure they were off-key, but she liked that they sang for the pure joy of it.

Camille P., David S. and Beth C. were her favorite kids. She liked Camille P. and David S. because they tried so hard. She wasn’t quite sure why she liked Beth C. so much because she was a pretty typical first grader, but she was such a good kid and she loved music. Sometimes it was hard to get Beth to focus for even a few minutes because the little girl would be bouncing in her seat softly humming some tune Rachel didn’t recognize so she just kind of assumed Beth was making up (she had the same ability when she was younger, but it seemed to have slipped away from her as she grew older). There was something in Beth that made Rachel a little sore because she knew Beth would unlikely hold onto that joy forever-- no one ever did. Beth would go on to be hurt and to hurt others, would have her heart broken and break the hearts of others, may be bullied or be the bully. Whatever. But Beth wouldn’t stay a sweet little kid forever, probably not even for much longer. But God that kid was a sweetheart.

It was about eight weeks into the school year when Rachel showed up at the elementary school one day while the kids were still at recess. Rachel helped Ms. McCormick stuff letters to the parents into envelopes inviting them to Open House whilst rambling on about her latest audition. Ms. McCormick listened with a half smile and Rachel knew the other woman really wasn’t all that interested, but Ms. McCormick often told her things she had no interest in, so Rachel thought it was okay.

She sat at her table in the back of the room while Ms. McCormick sat at her desk a few feet away. Rachel grabbed a letter, stuffed it into an envelope, looked at the list Ms. McCormick gave her and wrote: ‘To the parent(s) of Beth Corcoran’ on the front of the envelope.

She was already writing ‘To the parent(s) of Destiny Cudney,’ when the name ‘Beth Corcoran’ hit her. She grabbed the envelope again and stared at her own writing, as if it could give her some answers. She thought about little Beth Corcoran with her blond hair and hazel eyes and when Rachel thought about it, she could see both Noah and Quinn in that child. The fact she could carry a tune did not surprise her considering both Noah and Quinn displayed talent in that area and she was being raised by Shelby. Rachel swallowed hard. Maybe it was a mistake. Beth Corcoran was probably a more common name than one would think, although she was the right age to be that baby Quinn gave birth to and Shelby Corcoran adopted.

Rachel prided herself on her acting ability, so she continued on with her task despite the fact her heart was racing.

The bell announcing the end of recess rang and Ms. McCormick left to collect her class. They were back a few moments later and thirty five tiny voices greeted her as they walked back into the room.

“Hello, Miss Rachel!”

Despite the fact her world was off-kilter, she had to admit the genuine excitement in their voices upon seeing her was thrilling. But adulation was supposed to feel good, especially when it was so pure.

Ms. McCormick smiled at her. “It’s kind of like being a rock star, isn’t it?” she asked wryly as she tried in vain to quell the excited voices of the children still calling out to Rachel.

Rachel chuckled. “I can’t deny enjoying the adulation.”

Ms. McCormick laughed and Rachel pushed her feelings aside and got to work, calling David S. to work with her.

\--

“Are you coming to the Open House?” Ms. McCormick asked her before Rachel left that day.

Rachel was invited, but not required to attend the Open House since the parents probably wanted to meet the college student who was working with their precious little darlings. Rachel originally intended to go, but once she found out Beth C. was Beth Corcoran and likely her…what was that relationship? There was none, really. In any case, Rachel did not want to risk running into Shelby.

“I’m sorry,” Rachel said, making her tone apologetic. “I have a show opening that night,” she lied.

She did have a show opening, but it was the night _after_.

Ms. McCormick smiled. “That’s okay, I know you’re busy. Maybe some other time. I know the kids have really taken to you and I’m sure they’re talking about you to their parents.”

Rachel smiled weakly. She hoped not, at least with one particular student. “Maybe some other time.”

\--

After leaving the elementary school, she went to a few classes, grabbed a coffee with her friends Calvin and Monique and spent some time good-naturedly complaining about her boyfriend while her friends commiserated with the disgusting false sympathy of two people happily ensconced with each other.

“He’s a twat,” Calvin said, painfully uncharitable about his former best friend. “You tell that fucker if he ever hurts you, I’ll punch his heart out.”

Rachel exchanged a look with Monique and they each rolled their eyes because Calvin was the sort of guy who captured insects in the apartment he shared with Monique and released them outside.

“Stop embarrassing yourself,” Monique said, affectionately mussing her boyfriend’s hair.

“I’m not embarrassed,” he said peevishly, though he grinned.

“Okay, then. Stop embarrassing _me_ ,” Monique said.

He grinned at her and laughed.

“Seriously though,” Monique said, reaching across the table to squeeze Rachel’s hand. “You tell that twat if he ever hurts you, I’ll punch his heart out.”

“Aren’t you embarrassed for yourself?” Calvin cut in nasally.

“It’s believably murderous coming from me,” Monique grinned.

Rachel laughed. She hung out for a while and then went home. She’d managed to quell how perturbed she was through her day, but by the time she went back to the privacy of her apartment, she was completely freaked out about Shelby and Beth.

Crystal was already home with the guy she was dating that week.

“Hey!” Crystal greeted.

Rachel gave her a small smile. “Hi.”

“This is Gabe Tsai. Gabe, this is my roommate, Rachel Linton.”

Rachel smiled. “Hi,” she said, shaking his hand. He was cute enough and seemed nice, but history predicted she wouldn’t have to get to know him, so she excused herself to her room as quickly as she could.

It was funny, but it was only after Crystal introduced her that Rachel realized how grateful she was for her parents’ petty divorce during her senior year in high school in which Daddy demonstrated he was her biological father and then insisted she change her last name to his. She’d refused at first because she was pretty attached to Rachel Berry-- she’d practiced her ‘autograph signature’ for years and had it perfected. But he was petty and since he was the more reliable, functional parent, she really didn’t have a choice. It was highly likely he wouldn’t have helped her pay for college otherwise. It seemed like a small concession for getting out of Lima.

Beth was the only kid in the class to ask her last name, and Rachel was accustomed to saying “Rachel Linton” by then. When she got famous, she thought she would just change it to “Rachel Linton-Berry” or “Rachel Berry-Linton” so that neither of her fathers got insulted. (Crystal pointed out to her ‘Linton-Berry sounded like some very small and tart immune-system building fruit which Crystal also liked to point out was an apt descriptor of Rachel herself). As it was, she was still fielding guilt from Dad about letting Daddy talk her into changing her name. Now Rachel was very glad for the name change-- things really did happen for a reason, because if Beth ever mentioned her first and last name to Shelby, it would be Rachel Linton, not Rachel Berry.

It took four years for her to see any pay off in her parents’ very bitter divorce, but there it was.

\--

She’d convinced herself she was freaked out over nothing and the Beth Corcoran in that classroom was not the Beth Corcoran who was the adopted daughter of her biological mother. Why would Shelby and Beth be in New York City rather than in Lima? Maybe it was just a case of a child with the same name. After all, plenty of children were blond with hazel eyes-- that in and of itself wasn’t so unusual and if this child’s last name was Corcoran and bore more than a passing resemblance to Quinn and Noah…well, then, that was coincidence, right?

But the possibility still nagged at her and she was still perturbed that evening when Ryan came over.

Rachel kissed him and then pulled him into her bedroom.

“What’s up, babe?” he asked. “You seem…weird.”

He always tried to be diplomatic, but he wasn’t very articulate. Crystal thought the pairing was hilarious-- Rachel was excessively verbose and Ryan was not only laconic by nature but tended to be inarticulate when he did choose to speak.

Rachel chuckled. “I think a kid in my class is my sort-of sister.”

He raised an eyebrow.  
\--

It’s not like he didn’t know. They’d been dating for three years, and so he knew all about her fathers and the bitter dispute that forced her to change her last name. But when she told Ryan about her parents, she emphasized the early stuff-- the things she never witnessed, but was told about. The love that made them want to bring a child into the world and hire a surrogate.

The surrogate was a sore subject and Rachel fast forwarded through that part, and only told the story one time after they’d dated about six months. She just gave the bare bones-- that she’d met her biological mother who would go on to adopt the baby of a classmate and then fall out of touch. He seemed to sense there was more to it, but Rachel was glad he never pushed for more details because she still wasn’t ready to talk about it-- rejection tended to stay pretty raw.

“Well,” he said. “Maybe you can start wearing a disguise when you work at the school so that your mother won’t recognize you.”

She rolled her eyes. “A disguise?”

“You might be able to get away with it. She doesn’t sound very smart.”

She raised an eyebrow. “My dads said she’s brilliant. That’s one of the reasons they chose her.”

“Well, I wouldn’t willingly walk away from you,” he told her gruffly. “Now get me a beer, woman.”

She gave him a wry smile. “I’ll accommodate your boorish request,” she told him, getting up from the bed. “But only because you were being so sweet to me.”

He was sweet, but one of those types who had a hard time with communication. Sometimes it was annoying, but she just accepted that about him-- otherwise she’d just be with someone else.

She loved him and cared for him because he was fiercely protective of her, which, in turn, made her ferociously protective of him. Until Ryan, she never had anyone in her life who was willing to stand up for her (and _to_ her when it was necessary). She had other people in her life now who she believed genuinely cared about her, which she never really believed she would have, and she was thankful for that-- but she loved Ryan most because he was the first.  
When she made her lifeplan back in high school, she thought she would have a series of tumultuous, fiery romances and then ultimately settle down with a man she loved, but didn’t make her crazy. Or maybe end up with someone who used to make her crazy before they both grew out of it. She thought everyone’s life went like that-- a series of relationships that damaged until one found the relationship that didn’t.

Somehow she thought relationships in her 20’s would be wilder or more dysfunctional or whatever, but it really wasn’t like that with Ryan. Granted she had a lot to complain about with Ryan, but he had a lot to complain about her, too. They had their volatile moments, but he didn’t make her crazy and she liked that.

She wasn’t married to Ryan, but sometimes it felt that way. Sometimes, she was certain this was the relationship that was going to last, because while she loved and adored him with ferocity, she mostly felt like she was at the end of a marathon with him-- like the best and hard parts were over, and now she can just cool down and get some rest. It wasn’t exactly romantic or passionate, but it was real, steadfast and dependable.  
\--

Overall, Rachel was happy with her life. Granted she wasn’t taking the world by storm yet the way she fantasized, but she’d always known that was unlikely. She was only twenty, after all, even if she was on the verge of twenty one. She had time. But her reality was still very good-- she was doing well in school, learning a lot in her classes from professors who genuinely wanted to teach her. She felt she was becoming a better singer _and_ better actress. The play she was in for school was pretty successful and got good reviews in the school paper and actually had good ticket sales from outside the university community.

She knew her voice was good-- it was the acting she needed to work on, and she was glad for every opportunity to learn and practice. She had a decent apartment, a nice roommate and an attentive boyfriend. She had a pretty good job and had some good auditions. She was getting by financially-- on top of working at the elementary school, she’d picked up a job waitressing which was totally cliché, but it brought in money, so she didn’t mind. A girl could dream, but she still needed to eat her gluten-and-soy-free egg substitute.

She talked to each of her fathers at least once a month and got along fairly well with both of them. Every a few months, one of them deposited a few hundred dollars into her checking account as a surprise and when she’d call up the appropriate parent to thank him, he’d always laugh and remind her she was far away, but not so out of reach. When she had each of her fathers, alone, she remembered why she loved them so much. Until, that is, each of them would inevitably bring up the other parent. Her daddy thought her dad had Borderline Personality Disorder and her dad thought her daddy had Narcissistic Personality Disorder. The two of them were always going on about some ridiculous website, lovefraud dot com. She indulged them both but she thought they would both be better off if they just cut the charade and got back together-- though they’d both found new relationships and actually started new families. Daddy actually turned out to have had a family _before_ she was born that she never knew about and he’d gone back to his first wife. It was still a sore subject, but one she was trying to get over.

So her life was good, but she had to admit Beth C’s last name being Corcoran stressed her out. She tried not to let it show and she was certain she didn’t treat Beth any differently, but she made sure never to be at the elementary school around morning drop-off or school dismissal, because being on the campus around those times would increase the chances of running into Shelby.

Then it was December and getting close to Winter Break and it just so happened the elementary school’s break coincided with NYU’s. She took the week before final exams off from work to study and prepare her Winter recital. Most of her classes were now voice or acting related, but she still had a couple General Education requirement classes.

She did well on her finals, her play had a successful run and actually sold out on the last few nights and she did well at her Winter voice recital. Everything also coincided with her twenty-first birthday which was pretty nice. She went back to work on the elementary school’s last day of school feeling utterly elated. She worked with Beth first and the little blonde shyly presented a small Winnie the Pooh doll with a red bow around his neck.

“Happy Holidays,” Beth said shyly but with a big people-pleaser smile.

Rachel felt her heart melt. Given half a chance, God, how she would have loved this kid. “Happy holidays, Beth.”

Most of the kids in the class had brought her something-- cookies or a stuffed animal or even just a thank-you card with a candy cane on it. Rachel had to admit the attention made her delirious -- it really was kind of like being a rock star.

She’d spent three hours the night before putting together little holiday bags for each of the kids. It was nothing big-- clear cellophane bags containing some cookies she’d baked, candy and those little party favor toys that came in bulk. She got little plastic rings for the girls and toy cars for the boys despite the fact she knew she shouldn’t be giving into such gender biases. But she really didn’t see the harm because the girls instantly put on their rings and the boys instantly began bashing their cars into one another. And anyway, she brought extras of each, so that anyone who something extra could get one. Each of the bags were otherwise the same and she’d passed them out to the class when she arrived. Beth brought hers with her and she peered up at Rachel.

“Thank you very much for our treats,” Beth said politely with a big grin. She held up her bag to illustrate. She had a purple plastic ring on her ring finger. Rachel noticed Beth wore a lot of purple and she just assumed it was Beth’s favorite color, so she put the purple ring in the holiday bag on purpose.

Rachel smiled. “You’re welcome, Beth.”

“I wish you’d come earlier, Miss Rachel. My mommy wanted to meet you.”

Rachel forced a smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet her, Beth. Maybe another time.”

Beth gave her a gap-toothed smile. “Okay.”

Beth had a difficult time focusing and that was really the trend of the day. Most of the kids were way too excited to really focus, which Ms. McCormick warned her about so she spent most of her time just talking with the kids about their vacation plans and writing out four sentences about what they hoped to do. She made sure to work with each child that day, so she was there longer than she usually was. She was still at the school when it was very close to dismissal and Rachel made a hasty exit after waving to all the children to tell them to have a wonderful break.

She did not want to risk running into Shelby.  
\--

Rachel stayed in the city for all her breaks from school. She really hadn’t been back to Lima since the Winter Break of her freshman year in college, four years ago. She’d been seventeen then on the verge of turning eighteen, but her parents insisted she return home because they didn’t want their slightly underage daughter running amok in a major metropolitan city.

She spent that first Winter Break going back and forth between the new apartments of her fathers. They tried to be attentive and good to her, but they each spent most of the time badmouthing the other parent. It was terrible.

After that disastrous trip, she vowed never to return to Lima. She always had some show or something to prepare for which made refusing feasible. After all, her singular devotion to the pursuit of establishing her career was well-documented since she was four years old. She didn’t want to be in the middle of a tug-of-war between her parents and she didn’t even have friends in Lima she could hang out with when things at the separate residences of her fathers got too oppressive. Santana and the other glee kids had made it very clear to her during her junior year they did not like her and they only tolerated her for her talent.

That hurt a lot at first until she got used to it. That was fine by her because she valued her talent more than she valued the potential of their friendship. She stopped bothering to try to make friends with them by Sectionals that year because it’d been depressing and thankless to even try, and she didn’t hate herself enough to keep attempting a fruitless endeavor. She was plucky and optimistic, but she wasn’t some bored crazy person with nothing better to do than prostrate herself at the feet of people who didn’t give a shit about her. When she looked back on it now, she was glad she wasn’t friends with any of them because she understood what real friendship was now. Now that she was happy with her life, she realized she only wanted their friendship so badly the way a starving person wanted a stale bread crumb that fell from the lips of an obese glutton.

And of course there was that disastrous fling with Quinn their senior year, but Rachel tried very hard not to think about that. Ever. It’s not that it was that painful-- it was one of those brief, but intense relationships that ended badly. It hurt then, but mostly she looked back on it with shame and embarrassment. So she tried not to think of it and she rarely had occasion to think of it anyway.

Her life now was fairly close to what she dreamed it would be while she was still in Lima. She didn’t see why she should ever leave New York for _Lima_ even for short periods of time. It didn’t matter how her life in New York went-- she’d never return to Lima because it’d given her nothing and there was nothing left for her there.

\--

Her roommate, Crystal’s parents lived in Argentina, and so Crystal never went home for holidays either. Although Rachel and Crystal were friends, they didn’t spend a lot of time outside of their apartment together. They were friends who lived together so spending time outside their apartment was just unnecessary.

But they hung out during every winter break because everyone else always went home. Most people stayed for summer breaks and lots of people went away together for spring breaks, but winter breaks were the ones people seemed to want to spend with their families. Rachel was disinclined to do this, because she thought her relationship with her parents was better when it was via email or telephone, especially now that they both had other families who didn’t seem to want her around to remind them of the other lives of her fathers. And anyway, she liked spending her winter break hanging out with Crystal. It was a good tradition.

She was in the living room on Christmas Eve reading a script for her next school play and listening to ‘Coming in from the Cold’ by the Delgados on repeat when Crystal came home from the grocery store. Crystal lost the rock-paper-scissors battle and therefore had to make the Christmas Eve grocery store trek, which always sucked, but Rachel thought it was fair because she’d made the day-before-Thanksgiving grocery trek that year, which was _always_ worse. Crystal set the bags down in the kitchen without unpacking and plopped on the sofa next to Rachel, half-straddling Rachel as she plucked an ear bud out of Rachel’s ear and inserted it into her own.

Crystal snorted. “This song would make my vagina cry if I had to listen to the whole thing,” she declared, passing the ear bud back to Rachel. She slapped Rachel’s thigh. “Let’s make dinner, you lazy cheating git.”

Rachel held back a snort of laugher, because she did not understand how one could possibly cheat at rock-paper-scissors the way Crystal accused her. She pulled the other ear bud out and set her iPod and script on the coffee table. She stood up, stretched and followed Crystal into the kitchen.

\--

They cooked their Annual Sad Friendless Losers Christmas Eve dinner. Neither of them were sad or friendless losers, but that was what Crystal deemed their first Christmas Eve dinner together three years ago and the name stuck.

Rachel was just grateful she found a vegan roommate.

“You think being a vegan in bumblefuck Ohio is hard?” Crystal demanded when Rachel idly commented on how nice it was to have a vegan roommate and how hard it’d been to find vegan alternatives when she was in high school. “Try being vegan in Argentina, that’s hard!”

Sometimes Crystal reminded Rachel a little bit of Sue Sylvester.

\--

She and Crystal long ago agreed not to exchange presents during the December holiday season. They both had December birthdays, so they usually just got each other birthday gift cards

“You made out like a bandit,” Crystal commented, chewing on one of the many cookies Rachel brought home from the kids in her classroom the week before. Christmas Eve dinner was finished and they were now lingering at the kitchen table eating the cookies for dessert. “These cookies are so cute. They decorated them and everything.”

The cookies were decidedly non-vegan, but Rachel and Crystal indulged anyway.

“I know,” Rachel said. “But I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with so many stuffed animals.” She thought it was sweet of the kids, and she didn’t want to just chuck them because she possessed an extreme sense of sentimentality. But she honestly didn’t know what to do with them.

“Let’s have a tea party tomorrow,” Crystal suggested with a straight face. “We’ll find some fancy hats and you can practice your British accent. I’ll channel my mother’s Argentina by way of China accent. It’ll be hilarious and maybe if we do it long enough, you can add ventriloquism to your resume. ”

Rachel snorted and got up to pour herself a glass of almond milk. “You’re so ridiculous.”

“Get me one, too, okay?”

“Yes.”

Rachel poured two glasses of cold almond milk and came back to the table.

“Thanks.”

“Sure.” Rachel paused for a moment once she sat down again. “You said Carole told you one of the guys at the library quit, right?”

“Yeah. Does this mean you don’t want to have a tea party tomorrow?”

Rachel ignored the question entirely. “Did someone take the job already?”

“I don’t think so. School’s out and the kid quit, like, the last day of school before the break. Why?”

Rachel hesitated before she spoke, pondering the merits of telling Crystal about Beth and Shelby. She knew Crystal would be respectful, and Crystal knew about her fathers and Shelby, but that was really it. They were friends, but they weren’t really all that _close_ \-- it’s kind of what made living together so easy.

“I think one of the kids in my class is the adopted daughter of my biological mother,” Rachel said. “I haven’t spoken to my mother since I was fifteen and I’d like to keep it that way and avoid awkwardness. I’m thinking of quitting, but I need to find another job first.”

“Oh,” Crystal said. She paused. “Am I asleep?”

Rachel looked at her strangely. “What?”

“I don’t know, for a second I thought maybe I was dreaming because that sounds like something out of _All My Children_. Is your mother Erica Kane?”

“My mother isn’t fabulous enough to be Erica Kane,” Rachel said dryly. She didn’t watch the soap opera but she was familiar with who Erica Kane was.

“That’s so weird,” Crystal commented.

“I must confess it was very strange for me as well. What is the statistical likelihood of my mother’s daughter being in the classroom that I was assigned to for a job that I was unlikely to take in the first place except for my financial dire straits?”

“No, not that,” Crystal said. “Weirder things have happened. Who doesn’t have a story about running into someone unexpectedly in an unlikely place? I’m talking about you holding out on me about your mother. I can’t believe you’re so interesting without me knowing about it. I had no idea you were so withholding. I see you in a whole new way and I’m a little attracted to you now. I’m not sure I can go on with this platonic living arrangement any longer. Would you care to make out? I only ask that way because you seem to place a lot of emphasis on propriety and you seem the type who’d want someone to ask for permission.”

Rachel gave her a tiny grin. Crystal was both frustrating and comforting. She ignored the comment about the alleged newfound attraction because she knew Crystal didn’t really mean it. “Tell Carole to keep her eye out to see if anyone takes the position when school gets back in, will you please? I want to quit the tutoring thing and work at the library.”

Crystal grinned at her. “I told you that it would suck.”

“Now’s not the time for I-told-you-so, Crystal. Will you just tell Carole?”

“I’ll tell her.”

\--

Ryan came over and the three of them huddled on the sofa to watch _A Charlie Brown Christmas_ again. Ryan didn’t have any family in the state either, and Rachel appreciated he gave her space for her tradition with her roommate before coming over to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas with her. She was Jewish and did not have the same emotional attachment to the holiday the way Ryan or Crystal did, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be alone on it either.

They polished off a bottle of vodka with cranberry juice and had a warm buzz. Rachel was sandwiched in between her boyfriend and her roommate until her roommate stood up and announced she was going to bed.

It was after midnight and therefore officially Christmas.

“Happy Christmas,” Rachel murmured.

Crystal smiled. “Happy Christmas,” she said. She gave a tiny wave and went off to her bedroom.

Rachel snuggled into Ryan and pressed her cheek into his broad chest. He was tall and broad with dark hair and dark eyes. She certainly had a physical type. She always preferred her men like that, though their personalities varied. When she first met him, she’d been physically attracted to him but mostly felt he was unimpressive. She noticed right away that he breathed really loudly and uncharitably thought ‘mouthbreather.’ Now that same loud breathing was comforting and reminded her that as much as he bewildered her sometimes, she could count on him when she really needed him.  
  
“Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas,” Ryan murmured back, stroking her hair.

\--

She was mildly hungover when she woke up the next morning, but not incapacitated. She just had a mild headache and wished she’d consumed more water before she went to sleep. She reached for Ryan, but he was already out of the bed and she could smell food cooking in the kitchen. She got up, put on some clothes and padded into the kitchen. She found him in front of the stove and she watched him for a moment, a wave of affection swelling up from low in her belly before she walked to him, wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek into his back. He leaned back into her and they stood like that for a moment.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Thanks for cooking breakfast.”

“It’s tradition.”

She chuckled and poured herself some coffee. She wasn’t one of those people who _needed_ coffee to live, but she liked the taste. She took a sip and set the mug on the table. She put her hand flat against his back. She could feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt against her palm.

“I’m going to brush my teeth, I’ll be right back.”

“Sure, baby,” he said, a little distracted. He was trying not to burn the Ener-G vegan egg replacer or the fake bacon (facon) and she watched him for a moment before she walked away. She had to admit she appreciated the way he really tried to accommodate her, because he was very committed to his bacon and egg breakfasts, steak and potato lunches and surf-and-turf dinners-- all of which sounded absolutely odious to her.

Crystal was in the bathroom and they brushed their teeth together in front of the mirror at the sink. They walked back into the kitchen together and sat down for breakfast.

They spent the rest of the day together because Rachel didn’t want Crystal to feel alone or left out and then they watched a midnight movie at the theatre around the corner.  
\--

She spent Winter Break buying books for her classes on Amazon and EBay and trying to find the lowest price for the best condition. She went on a few promising auditions, memorized her script because rehearsals would start up once the new semester began and just stayed optimistic about her prospects. No one said it would be easy.

\--

By the time the new semester started, Rachel was firmly committed to quitting her job at the elementary school but she just had to line up her job at the library first. She felt bad about disappointing the children, but it wasn’t as though they wouldn’t get over it. She wasn’t a cynical person by any means, but she thought everyone had to get used to the occasional disappointment. Besides, she was a college student. She was allowed to be flighty.

She kept her plans to herself for the first couple weeks after the elementary school came back in session. The library gig wasn’t a sure thing because there were bunches of other work study kids who needed jobs and she already had one.

But two weeks into the new semester, Ms. McCormick slipped her a note right before Rachel left at 11:46am on a Friday morning-- right before the kids were about to go to lunch.

“Beth’s mother gave me this note to give to you,” Ms. McCormick said with a smile. “It’s a thank-you note. Beth’s taken a real shine to you.”

Rachel took it shakily. She read the front of the envelope.

She recognized the handwriting.

Miss Rachel Linton.

“Thank you,” Rachel managed to say before she left quickly.

\--

She read the note as she walked to her class.

_Dear Miss Linton,_

_Beth tells me you’ve been working very hard with her and I’ve seen how she seems to be more inclined to read ever since you began working with her. She speaks of you constantly (Miss Rachel is a favorite dinner table topic in our home) and I can’t thank you enough for the attention you’ve shown my daughter. Thank you for the kindness and commitment you’ve shown not only to the class, but specifically to Beth._

_Sincerely,_

_Shelby Corcoran_

Rachel swallowed hard. There was no way she could delude herself anymore. Beth was _Beth_.

She crumpled up the note in her hand and was ready to throw it into the nearest receptacle, but she stuck it into her purse instead. She was distracted through the rest of her classes, which was unfortunate because she had classes for the next five hours straight. By the time she got home, she burst in through the door, barely stopping to greet Crystal who was surprisingly still dating Gabe Tsai.

Rachel heard Gabe comment “your roommate always seems like she’s in such a rush.”

Crystal chuckled. “That’s what happens when you give a hummingbird Ritalin.”

Rachel shut her door and read the note from Shelby again. Then she tore it up and threw it away.

\--

A week after Rachel received the note, she got the job at the library. She apologized to Ms. McCormick who looked angry and told Rachel the kids deserved better, which they did, but she accepted Rachel’s mind was made up. Rachel felt awful as she had to tell the kids she wasn’t going to come back and deflected their repeated whys.

She felt like a massive disappointment. She wished she were a better person, but she wasn’t.

“Babe, it’s okay,” Ryan told her when she sighed about her feelings of guilt. “The thought you would run into your mother was stressing you out. You don’t deserve that. You didn’t do anything wrong. What’s so bad about you looking out for yourself once in a while?”

“I feel really selfish. I _am_ really selfish. You should have heard how disappointed they were. People aren’t disappointed at the prospect of not seeing me again, you know.”

“I’d be disappointed if I couldn’t see you again,” he offered.

“I know, but we’re sleeping together. And I’m really good at it. I could fathom why you would be disappointed.”

He snorted and shook his head at her bluntness.

“It’s okay for you to be selfish if you’re just looking out for yourself, babe. You are the only person on this planet who would think otherwise. Why should you put yourself through all that stress?”

“Ms. McCormick said the kids deserve better-- and they do.”

“Babe, _you_ deserve better. It’s _really_ okay to be selfish if you’re just looking out for yourself.”

She knew he was right, but she still felt awful. She knew if she were a better person, she’d just stick it out and fulfill her commitment. But she wasn’t a better person.

\--

The job at the library was less fulfilling, but she got more study time and it wasn’t as exhausting either. She thought it was a pretty fair trade. She missed the kids, but she wasn’t longing for them or anything. Her friends seemed to think she would have found her calling or whatever as a teacher, but all it did was emphasize how much she did _not_ want to teach.

The semester wore on, and she mostly forgot about the children other than Beth and her guilt diminished, particularly because she ran into one of the other NYU student tutors who informed her that someone else snatched up Rachel’s job pretty quickly and apparently that tutor was an actual Education major or something. She still thought about Beth and Shelby now and then, but she really didn’t think of them that often. Things in her life were pretty good and she really didn’t fixate on things that only served to stress her out anymore.

\--

It was cliché, but she got into an argument with her boyfriend on Valentine’s Day. It wasn’t during dinner or anything, either. It was a Sunday and they’d finished brunch and browsing in a bookstore. She thought everything was going pretty well as they walked to his car.

She was pretty elated from the day-- she’d been greeted with the sweet scent of flowers and a steaming hot cup of coffee. Then when she looked at her wrist she saw the most gorgeous silver bracelet that she’d definitely did not go to bed wearing. Everything just seemed so perfect when they left her apartment to go to brunch.  
  
“What do you say we just stay in tonight instead of going out?” Rachel suggested as they walked down the street, arm-in-arm. They were only about ten feet from where his car was parked. She only made the suggestion for his sake-- she didn’t mind crowds. She thought she should get accustomed to them for her future stardom. Ryan hated crowds though and she thought they could just stay in and she could cook for him.

He stopped walking and she immediately sensed that he was not happy. Though he was generally very even-tempered (much more so than her) he’d had a few of these very rapid changes in mood over the years. Mostly with other people, and she’d inevitably have to smooth things over, but it’d happened a few times with her, too, and she’d found each experience to be terrifying, but not enough to give him up because it’d been so infrequent. He yanked his arm away from her and stared down at her, glowering hard enough she instinctually drew back.

“I made that reservation a month ago,” he spat out.

She swallowed hard. “It was just a suggestion,” she said mildly, trying to placate him. This was really his only true fault-- the moments of rage he experienced for _no_ reason or were completely out of measure. She could see why he might be irritated, but he’d clearly misinterpreted her intentions.

“You’re so fucking thoughtless, Rachel!” he snapped, his voice rising. “You always expect me to go over the top for Valentine’s and then when I make a fucking reservation a month in fucking advance in a restaurant where we can _both_ eat instead of your vegan crap, you say we should stay in, what’s wrong with you?!”

“Ryan, calm down,” she said lowly, reaching for him.

“Shut up,” he snapped.

And then he slapped her-- just once across the face. She swallowed hard and her face felt very hot, though she wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or the sting of being slapped. Some people just passed by like these types of arguments were commonplace, but other people were staring.

He seemed to sense that, too, because he grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her to the car. She thought she heard someone shout her name and she instinctively turned around to look, but she didn’t see anyone she recognized. The thought that maybe she was just hearing things was a relief, because she was embarrassed for herself. It sounded like a child’s voice calling out to her anyway and she didn’t know any kids. She ducked her head and quickly got in the car and they drove away. He drove like a maniac the whole time, cursing at her.

\--

He’d calmed down and apologized by the time they got back to her apartment and she said she was okay, but she was still stewing from the shock of it. It was only a slap, so it’s not like there was any damage, though her face still throbbed a bit. But she was completely thrown off by it.

There’d been a few incidents over the past few years, but this was the first time he’d _hit_ her and she didn’t know what it said about him that he did it in public. Weren’t people usually on their _best_ behavior in public?

The other incidents weren’t that major--maybe a year into their relationship, he’d slammed his hand repeatedly on the wall to emphasize a point during an argument. It’d been scary and intimidating, but she dismissed it because he never even came close to hitting her and really, who didn’t become mad enough in an argument he or she wanted to hit something? She took out her anger on a punching bag at the gym, so she never had to resort to hitting a wall, but Ryan didn’t have a similar outlet and she just pushed the incident out of her mind.

It never happened again and for a year, he was sweet and gentle and their arguments never had any kind of physicality, even when they were volatile. Then a year later almost to the day, actually, they had an argument in which she’d been furious enough to try to walk away and he’d grabbed her by her upper arm and just _held_ on. It bruised the next day, but again, she dismissed it because it didn’t seem unreasonable to grab someone to prevent them from walking away in a fight. Then a few months later, another volatile argument and he’d pushed her and pulled her hair. No damage, she was just kind of afraid of him for a while and she wondered if the relationship was worth it. She’d run an inner cost-benefit analysis and determined it was worth it to stay with him because outside of that one incident, she couldn’t say he was violent with her. And she didn’t think it was that violent-- people were worse to her in high school and those were people she’d considered her friends before they made it clear they didn’t think of her as a friend. She didn’t think it was so bad-- just pushing and pulling her hair. It was no worse than a Slushie being thrown in her face with great force as she walked to class or being tripped by a fellow student or being harshly insulted. It was just pushing and hair-pulling-- in some other context, it could be foreplay.

So she stayed with him and nothing bad happened for so long.

But the slapping was a whole other thing. She stewed about it the whole day, and a part of her told herself that it wasn’t so unusual-- one slap in a relationship. If it never happened again, what was the big deal? But she was so mad at herself for just complying with him and getting into the car with him when she should have told him off and just hailed a cab or something. It’d really been the shock of it. She just froze and went along with it when he took her by the arm and pulled her to his car. And he was _so_ apologetic that she was trying to forgive him.

She went to dinner with him and stared at him for a while, contemplating this man and the state of their relationship. It was mostly very good and she was happy with it. She was happy with him.

But she wasn’t about to become some after school special or play the Julia Roberts role in _Sleeping with the Enemy_ in real life. She knew she was being overdramatic about it. In actuality, she was convinced it would never happen again if she stayed with him-- after all, he’d told her he’d never slam his hand into a wall, push her or pull her hair (outside of the bed anyway), and he never did. She thought if she stayed with him, it would be okay. He was never really abusive to her-- never put her down, never tried to control her, never intimidated her or any of that stuff commonly associated with an abusive relationship. But she didn’t want to risk it, and there were some very clear warning signs there.

She wasn’t an idiot. He’d escalated from hitting a wall to hitting her and sure it was only a slap and not a punch in the face or whatever, but did it really have to escalate to that?

She loved him and she was happy with their relationship, but she wasn’t so desperate for love or affection that she’d let him _slap_ her and be okay with it. She didn’t need him…didn’t need _anyone_ that much. She’d been alone and lonely for the first seventeen years of her life before she moved to New York City and she’d realized people actually _liked_ her once she left that narrow-minded bumblefuck town. She wasn’t so pathetic she’d trade in her self-respect for affection. She valued herself way too much. It’d taken her a long time to get to a point where she could value herself _at all_ and she just didn’t think it was worth it to be with someone where she would have to wonder if he’d raise his hand to her again.

“I’m breaking up with you,” she told him softly when he’d walked her to the door after their Valentine’s dinner. He’d been ready to come in, but she stood in front of the door, blocking his entry.

“Rachel, listen. I--”

“No,” she said calmly. “You hit me today. In _public_ ,” she added for emphasis. “You’re just lucky I didn’t let you come in tonight and cut off your penis for revenge. I’m breaking up with you.”

“Rachel, just listen for a second--”

“I can entertain the notion of us being friends at some later juncture, but tonight, I’m breaking up with you. And you will _not_ be able to change my mind. I think you know me very well by now to know once I am set on something, I am _quite_ set. You will not change my mind. Goodnight, Ryan. We’ll make an arrangement next week when we’re both more rational to arrange for an exchange of our personal effects that have been left at each other’s apartments.”

And with that, she went inside, shut the door, locked it and walked to her room, ignoring the way he continued to knock on the door and call her name. She shut off her phone just to be safe.

She got under the covers and cried.

She suspected she would be doing that a lot for quite a while. She was strong enough to end it, but she wasn’t so strong she could end it and not cry about it.


	2. Chapter 2

Shelby Corcoran heard about Miss Rachel for nearly a month after the tutor left the school for unspecified reasons. She thought it was ironic the woman would leave the school so soon after Shelby sent that note thanking Miss Rachel for her dedication. Beth had gushed on and on about Miss Rachel, how pretty she was, how nice she was, how well she sang, how she always seemed so happy. Shelby almost thought it was a crush, but then Beth told her, “she reminds me of you, Mommy,” and she didn’t think it was a crush at all.

Shelby thought of her other daughter-- it was impossible not to, with Beth going on and on about this Rachel. The way Beth described her, Shelby had a moment where she almost believed the Rachel that Beth gushed about was _her_ Rachel, but then she found out this Rachel’s last name was Linton, not Berry.

She’d tried a few times to meet the tutor, but Ms. Linton was never there during the morning drop-offs and the babysitter picked Beth up from school, so Shelby never had an opportunity

Beth was still in tears when Shelby came home on Miss Rachel’s last day in the classroom and it took a month for Beth to finally stop mentioning her. She didn’t understand this attachment Beth felt to this reading tutor-- she spoke to Ms. McCormick about it, and Miss Rachel never really did anything other tutors at the school didn’t do. There was nothing all that special about Miss Rachel as a tutor, but the class loved her the way small children loved anyone they regularly came in contact with, and Shelby could not deny her daughter was heartbroken when Miss Rachel Linton left.

And then one day, she was taking her daughter for a meal on Valentine’s Day when Beth let out a little excited shriek.

“There’s Miss Rachel!”

Beth pointed to a petite brunette across the street walking arm-in-arm with a tall broad-shouldered man who was presumably her boyfriend.

Shelby grabbed Beth by the arm to prevent her from running across the street to her beloved Miss Rachel. She watched as the couple stopped and seemed to be in the midst of an argument. And she jumped slightly when the boyfriend slapped the woman-- it was a fairly violent slap that made the woman’s head sling back. Then the man grabbed the woman by the arm and dragged her to the car.

“Miss Rachel!” Beth shrieked.

Miss Rachel turned around just before she got into the car and Shelby got a good glimpse and felt her anger rise up.

That girl who just got slapped by her boyfriend and was now driving away with him wasn’t just some NYU student who once worked as a classroom tutor. That girl was her daughter.

“Mommy, that man hit Miss Rachel!” Beth was teary and distraught. “Why did he do that?”

It took a moment for Shelby to find her voice. “I don’t know, baby. But hitting is very very wrong. No one is ever allowed to hit you.”

“Are people allowed to hit Miss Rachel?”

“No one is allowed to hit Miss Rachel, either.”

“Then why did that man do it? He’s breaking the law!”

“I don’t know why that man did it, sweetheart. But he _is_ breaking the law. I am sure Miss Rachel will be okay though, sweetheart,” Shelby tried to be reassuring because Beth looked so distressed. “I know she’ll call the police, baby. She’ll be okay.”

Beth looked dubious, but finally she gave a slight nod. “Okay.”

When they got the restaurant, she found she couldn’t eat and Beth didn’t seem to have much of an appetite. She was usually a really good eater, so Shelby assumed Beth was worried about Rachel. Shelby was worried, too. Worried and _furious_. She was going to find that man and possibly gut him like a fish. Who the hell did he think he was hitting her daughter like that?

But then Shelby had to stop herself from getting carried away because…well, Rachel wasn’t really her daughter. Biologically, sure, but she hadn’t seen or talked to Rachel in six years. And in all honesty, she’d been so enamored of Beth that she really didn’t think about Rachel that often except when Beth hit a particular milestone, like uttering her first word or taking a first step and then Shelby imagined what Rachel must have looked like doing that, or what Rachel’s first word had been. And of course, she’d thought of Rachel on her birthday and said a silent prayer, pleading to God to keep Rachel safe and happy.

She knew she had no right to feel the outrage of a parent, but she’d still given birth to Rachel and that did make her Rachel’s mother. No daughter of hers was going to get slapped by some _man_. She felt fear grip her stomach and her heart. Rachel’s last name was Linton now. What if she was married to him? Dear God, she thought Rachel was smarter than that. How could she be married to some thug by the age of twenty-one? She _really_ thought Rachel was smarter than that, and if she’d had any kind of inkling Rachel would be that naïve, Shelby would have made more of an effort to stay involved. She knew this kind of made her an asshole, but that was just how it was. Shelby immediately began imagining the worst case scenarios.

\--

Shelby was still angry and concerned by the time she and Beth got home. She tucked Beth into the living room so she could keep an eye on her from the family room while Beth watched a video. She thought about the people she knew who were likely to know Rachel’s phone number and she settled on Quinn Fabray.

\--

“Hi,” Quinn greeted her cheerfully. “How’s Beth?”

“Beth is fine.”  
  
There was a part of her that wanted Beth only to herself-- she’d lost Rachel to her fathers and never had a shot with her, which made her more selfish with Beth. But as much as she wanted to monopolize Beth, Shelby knew it was in Beth’s best interest that she have some contact with her biological parents. She wanted to be greedy and keep Beth to herself, but the relationship that Quinn and Puck had with Beth was the type of relationship she wish she had with Rachel while Rachel was growing up.

Quinn and Puck didn’t overdo it-- Puck lived in California and came out a couple times a year to visit and Quinn lived in Brooklyn and still only saw Beth a few times a year. They both called Beth regularly. As far as Beth knew, Puck and Quinn were just friends and each time they visited, they both spoiled her rotten.

“What’s up?” Quinn asked. “You don’t call me just to talk.”

Shelby had to smile at Quinn’s bluntness. It was one of the things she liked about Quinn. “I remember you mentioning once that you and Rachel were friends during your senior year of high school.”

“Yeah,” Quinn said flatly. The warmth in Quinn’s voice disappeared. “What about her?”

“Do you have a contact number for her or anything?”

“No.”

Shelby suppressed a sigh. “Do you know anyone who would?”

“No.”

“All right,” Shelby said. She was a little impatient with this conversation, but she was trying not to show it. “Do you want to talk to Beth for a few minutes?”

Quinn’s voice immediately brightened. “Of course.”

Shelby brought the phone to Beth and gave them some privacy despite the fact she wanted to eavesdrop. Quinn may have given birth to Beth, but Quinn was _not_ Mommy. Shelby tried to tell herself this every time Quinn visited and Shelby could see the resemblance that became more obvious with each visit.

She came back a few minutes later and Beth handed the phone back to her.

“Quinn wants to talk to you.”

“Okay, sweetheart. Thank you.”

Typically, Quinn just hung up after these conversations.

“Hello?”

“Who hit Rachel?! It’s Rachel you guys saw, right? My Rachel?”

Shelby glanced down at her daughter and suppressed a groan. Beth was a chatterbox and Shelby was not surprised Beth told Quinn about what they’d witnessed that day. She had no idea what Quinn meant by ‘my Rachel’ however, considering Quinn wasn’t even in contact with her.

Shelby walked back into the family room so she could keep an eye on Beth as she watched the movie.

“It’s why I called you,” Shelby said lowly. “I’d like to speak to Rachel to sort out if this…is something I need to be alarmed about.”

“Of course it is!” Quinn snapped and she clearly sounded concerned. “I don’t have a number or anything for her. We lost touch. I used to have an email, but I deleted it from my contacts.”

“That’s okay,” Shelby said quietly, though she was disappointed.

“I’ll try Facebook,” Quinn said quietly. “Her last name is Linton now, right? I remember when her father made her change it.”

Shelby frowned. “What?”

“Our senior year, her parents got divorced and her father made her change her last name to his. That’s why she’s Rachel Linton now.”

Shelby let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, thank God. I thought she got married.”

Quinn snorted. “Marriage isn’t in Rachel’s life plan for another four years.”

\--  
Shelby got off the phone with Quinn and emailed Will Schuester. She wanted to call him, but she wanted to be respectful of the fact he was in a serious relationship _and_ it was Valentine’s Day. She didn’t give any details, just asked if he knew how to contact Rachel. She was surprised his response came almost instantaneously.

 _No. She hasn’t spoken to me since she graduated_.

She’d barely finished typing up a thank-you response when she received a call from Puck.

“Who hit Rachel?” he demanded.”I’ll beat his ass down.”

Shelby suppressed a sigh. Young men in their 20s were so predictable when it came to ex-girlfriends.

\--

She looked for Rachel fairly diligently for the next couple weeks, but came up with nothing but dead ends. She tried calling Rachel’s fathers-- she’d dialed and _almost_ dialed that number hundreds of times between December 20, 1994 and the day Rachel sought her out in the Carmel High auditorium. But she’d either hung up before the first ring or hung up once someone answered. A couple times, Rachel answered, her telephone manners impeccable even as a child-- ‘Hello! You’ve reached the home of the Berry family!” It’d been so difficult not to say something during those times. She just listened to Rachel’s voice, polite and warm at first and then growing impatient with each “hello?” before finally hanging up with a “it is very impolite to prank call” with seven year old indignation. But she kept calling back, because she hoped the child would say what her name was, as in, ‘Hello! You’ve reached the home of the Berry family. ______ speaking!” But Rachel never did.

But currently the number Shelby used to have for Rachel’s fathers was out of service, though it did make sense since Quinn explained they’d split up. She tried to look for David Berry and Joseph Linton, but it did nothing because there were no listings. She did a Google search for Rachel Berry, Rachel Linton _and_ Rachel Berry-Linton and Rachel Linton-Berry and mostly came upon websites for the NYU Tisch School of Arts, but nothing with any contact information. She reluctantly put her search on hold.

And then a month later, when she was grocery shopping with Beth, the front of Shelby’s cart slammed right into the front of Rachel’s as Shelby was about to exit the cereal aisle just as Rachel was about to enter.

There were a couple seconds of startled apologies before they all recognized one another.

“Miss Rachel!” Beth squealed. She launched herself at Rachel who was knocked back slightly by the sheer force.

“Hi Beth,” Rachel greeted, hugging the blond child before releasing her and laughing softly when she realized Beth was still holding on. “How are you?”

“I’m good! How are you?”

“I’m very well,” Rachel said with a smile.

Beth grabbed Rachel by the hand and led her to Shelby. “This is my mommy.”

Rachel smiled down at Beth before fixing her gaze on Shelby and casting a stilted smile that was considerably less warm than the one she’d graced Beth with just seconds before.

“Hello, Ms. Corcoran,” Rachel greeted politely. She stuck out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Rachel Linton. I was a tutor in Beth’s class for a while.”

So professional. Shelby was confident in Rachel’s acting abilities because _she_ almost believed Rachel was just some former tutor in her kid’s class from the way Rachel looked and greeted her.

She reached for Rachel’s hand and shook it, holding onto it longer than necessary because she was touching her daughter again and she’d forgotten how amazing it felt to do that.

Rachel pulled-- practically yanked her hand away and there was a fleeting look of resentment before Rachel cast her eyes on Beth. “Have you been reading with your new tutor?”

Beth nodded but she looked decidedly displeased. “I don’t like the new tutor. She’s mean.”

Rachel looked at her sympathetically. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“How come you can’t come back?”

Rachel gave her a crooked smile. “I know you don’t understand it now, but it was because I had a lot of changes in my schedule at _my_ school and I couldn’t come to your school anymore. But I’m very very sorry for disappointing you. I didn’t want to leave, it’s just that I had to.”

Beth nodded gravely. “Mommy says college is hard.”

Rachel laughed. “Sometimes,” she conceded.

Beth touched Rachel’s hand. “Is that mean man who hit you in jail?”

Rachel’s eyes widened and she peered down at Beth, startled. “Pardon me, sweetheart?”

Beth looked up at her plaintively. “People aren’t supposed to hit,” she informed. “Mommy and I saw you on Valentime’s.”

“Valenti _n_ e’s,” Rachel and Shelby corrected. They looked at one another for a moment, but did not comment, though Shelby was tempted to yell “jinx” the way she did with Beth when they happened to say something at the same time.

Rachel’s cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry you saw that, Beth. That was my friend and he and I were just playing a game. He didn’t really hit me. But you’re right, people aren’t supposed to hit. It’s wrong. And if anyone hits you, I want you to tell your mom or Ms. McCormick, okay?”

Shelby winced because she knew her kid was too smart to fall for a story like that. She was right.

“What kind of game?” Beth asked dubiously.

Rachel stared at Beth, clearly a little startled. “We were rehearsing for my play,” she said after taking a moment to respond. “I’m sorry if that worried you, Beth.”

Beth seemed to accept this. “You shouldn’t do that if people don’t know you’re only acting,” she scolded. “People will get worried and next time they won’t help you if you’re really in trouble like the boy who cried wolf. Except you didn’t lie.”

Rachel chuckled. “You’re absolutely right, Beth. I’m very sorry.” She smiled at Beth again and then looked at Shelby. “I should get going.”

“Rachel, can I speak with you a moment?” Shelby asked. She did not want to let this opportunity slip away.

The look Rachel cast upon her was very cold. But Rachel gave a slight nod. “Of course, Ms. Corcoran,” Rachel said, all polite words and honeyed tones. But the moment they stepped away-- within view of Beth, but out of earshot, Rachel’s expression and tone were icy.

“ _Yes_?”

“Rachel,” Shelby said softly. “I’ve been very concerned about what I saw on Valentine’s Day. It’s absolutely not okay for anyone to--”

Rachel put her hand up to cut Shelby off. “I think,” she said calmly, “we established a long time ago that I’m _not_ any of your concern. This is not a subject I am going to discuss with someone I hardly know.”

“Rachel, he _hit_ you!”

“I know that,” Rachel said wryly. “I was the one publicly assaulted.”

“Rachel, it’s not funny.”

“I realize that,” Rachel said. “And I appreciate your concern though it is quite misplaced. Though my personal relationships are none of your concern, I can assure you he and I are no longer romantically involved.”

Shelby sighed softly, releasing a breath she wasn’t even aware she was holding. “Really?”

Rachel nodded. “Yes,” she said. She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Is that all?”

Shelby deflated. She really didn’t have anything else to say. “Yes, Rachel.”

“Okay, then,” Rachel said and the smile she gave then was much more sincere. “Bye.”

Rachel walked away and stopped to say goodbye to Beth. Beth threw herself at Rachel again and Shelby watched as Beth hung onto Rachel as Rachel gave Beth a quick spin. Shelby wondered for a moment what it would have been like to raise her two girls together, even with the age difference being so significant. Rachel was so good with Beth that Shelby thought she would have been an excellent older sister.

She’d missed the baby she gave away and she’d longed for her. But she didn’t really feel a connection to Rachel when they met. Rachel just seemed so grownup. And granted once she had Beth, she really didn’t think of Rachel that often, but that didn’t mean Rachel slipped completely from her thoughts. She felt the regret she always felt when she thought of Rachel swell up and crash down on her.

When she’d thought about the baby she gave up to her fathers, she thought about the things she wanted to teach her daughter. Granted, when she gave birth to Rachel, she was twenty three years old and barely knew her ass from her elbow. But as she grew older, she started compiling little life lessons in her head about wisdom she wanted to impart to that baby that looked at her across a room of nurses. And one of the most important things she wanted to teach her baby was about men who hit-- that it never ended well.

\--

She saw Rachel again while Rachel was at the check-out counter. Shelby was still shopping and she felt loss clutch her stomach as she watched Rachel chatting with the store clerk. She wondered if that was going to be her last glimpse of Rachel.

“Bye Miss Rachel!” Beth shouted, waving at Rachel.

Rachel turned back and gave Beth a toothy smile and waved. But she took her groceries and walked away.

“Miss Rachel is _really_ pretty,” Beth commented.

Shelby gave her daughter a small smile. “She really is,” she agreed.

\--

Beth was three when Shelby decided to make the move to New York City. She knew her own Broadway dreams were out of reach, but she felt alive again and she wanted to return to the city she couldn’t enjoy the first time around. It was strange really, because she spent all her time growing up in Lima wanting to leave. The money from the surrogacy gave her that opportunity. But when she left Lima for New York, she kept picturing her baby, what she would look like, what she sounded like, what she _smelled_ like. Her body ached for her baby, from the way her stomach felt too flat to the way her pornographically enlarged breasts continued to lactate. Whatever it was inside her that made her want to leave Lima and achieve stardom was replaced by the sheer longing for her baby.

Giving Rachel away broke something vital in her. She knew it was part of the agreement and her younger self thought it would be easy-- she’d pop the kid out and walk away and never think about the kid with anything other than distant and idle curiosity. But it didn’t happen that way. All she could think about was her baby and when she realized she couldn’t have any more children, that Rachel was her first, only and last chance, that broke her in ways she had no idea a person could be broken. It seemed so mundane—it wasn’t like she was the victim of some terrible trauma. She just couldn’t have children and there were millions of women, probably even billions in the same situation. But she just could not handle it. So, she cut her losses, returned to Lima, got her teaching credential and looked for her daughter in every brown-haired brown-eyed little girl of a certain age. She even taught at the primary level for a while, hoping by some miracle, she’d get her daughter in her class. But it never happened.

As the years passed, she caught glimpses her daughter everywhere. Not the actual child, of course, but she glimpsed her daughter in so many brown-eyed, brown-haired little girls. She didn’t even know her baby’s name and so referred to her daughter inwardly as ‘baby’ for fifteen years. Sometimes she was the little baby being nuzzled by her mother. Sometimes she was the little tomboy running away from a sibling. Sometimes she was the exasperated teenager indulging her father. None of these girls were ever her baby, but they’d catch her eye long enough for her to stare at them, squint and imagine what became of that baby who _looked_ at her in the delivery room.

And then one day she finally saw a girl who looked so much like she imagined her baby to look, that she just stared. Then that girl sang and Shelby just knew. She knew even before she looked at the program from Invitationals.

Rachel Berry.

She became obsessed with Rachel to the point she sent one of her students undercover into McKinley.

But when she finally met Rachel, she could see how unnecessary she was in Rachel’s life outside of tailoring a costume. Rachel had her own life and her dreams and Shelby didn’t see a role for herself. Somehow she thought she was getting her baby back, but that wasn’t the case at all. Seeing Rachel so grown-up only highlighted all the loss she felt over the years. And that’s when she knew she _had_ to be a mother, even if it couldn’t be to Rachel.

So, she adopted Beth and after a few years, she moved back to New York City and got a job teaching at one of the public high schools. Some part of her always kept an eye out for Rachel’s name in lights or in print.

It was a good life. Sure the cost of living was much higher than back in Ohio, but she thought it was a fair trade-off because she and Beth got to experience so many things they wouldn’t be able to experience in Lima.

\--

She thought about Rachel periodically after the grocery store run-in. She’d never seen Rachel in that grocery store before and she never saw Rachel there again.

She assumed Rachel was telling her the truth about not dating the guy anymore because Rachel seemed smart as hell-- way too smart to stay with a man who would hit her. Shelby knew from experience intelligence had nothing to do with things like that, but she believed Rachel when she said she was no longer dating the guy. Sometimes she woke up at night with the fear Rachel was lying to her and she was being hurt at that very moment. But most of the time, she was confident Rachel was safe.

The next time Rachel came up as a serious topic of conversation was about a month later on Quinn’s birthday when Quinn dropped by to visit with Beth.

“Did you ever find Rachel?” Quinn asked, her tone was casual, but she was looking intently at Shelby. Beth was in the living room watching one of the DVDs that Quinn brought for her.

“Not exactly,” Shelby said wryly as she recounted the story of her serendipitous run-in with Rachel at the grocery store.

“Did you get her phone number or an email address?”

Quinn looked just a little too desperate for information on someone she claimed she wasn’t really friends with after the tail end of their senior year of high school.

“I wanted to ask,” Shelby said truthfully. “But I don’t think she would have given it to me. She didn’t seem like she wanted to speak to me,” she admitted.

Quinn looked almost...resentful. “You should have asked.” She paused. “Is she still with that guy?”

“She said they aren’t together anymore.”

Quinn looked dubious, but she said nothing.

“I believe her. I don’t think she would stay with someone who mistreated her. She wouldn’t take that.”

Quinn smiled crookedly. “You don’t know her like I know her.”

This made Shelby worry all over again.

\--

She saw Rachel again _months_ later eating at a restaurant. It was a hot summer afternoon in July and she was taking a walk with Beth. Rachel was dining al fresco with that man she allegedly broke up with. They were seated on the front patio near the small cast-iron fence the restaurant constructed to create a partition from the rest of the street.

Shelby was _furious_.

Beth was oblivious to her rage and stood on the horizontal bar toward the bottom of the fence to get herself closer to Rachel.

“Hi Miss Rachel!”

Rachel smiled. “Hi Beth. How are you?”

“I’m good! How are you?”

“I’m very well, thank you for asking.”

Rachel studiously avoided Shelby’s gaze, seeming to pick up on the anger that Shelby felt.

The man-- the man who _hit_ Rachel peered up at Shelby and then looked at Beth.

“Wait,” he said. “Is this--”

Rachel gave him a swift kick. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Like _hell_ they would. If Shelby had it her way, she’d drag Rachel away right now. But Shelby did not want to risk making a scene with Beth there.

“Rachel, I’d like to speak to you later,” Shelby said, pulling her phone out. “What’s your phone number?”

Rachel looked outraged and ready to balk, but then she looked at Beth who just looked so eager and acquiesced.

Shelby punched the digits into her phone and felt a tiny note of triumph.

Rachel stood up and climbed over the fence, which made Beth giggle.

“You’re not supposed to do that!” Beth chided.

“I know, but I’m making an exception,” Rachel said with a grin. Beth threw herself on Rachel and Rachel held Beth close for a moment before releasing her. She crouched down so that she was eye-level with Beth. “Did you do well in school?”

Beth nodded. “Mommy said she was proud of me.”

Rachel grinned at Beth and then peered up at Shelby for a moment before looking away dismissively and turning her attention back to Beth. She raised her palm in the air. “Good job. Then I’m proud of you, too.”

Giggling, Beth slapped her hand against Rachel’s in a high-five. “Thank you.”

Rachel smiled. “I really hope you enjoy the rest of your summer vacation, Beth.”

“Are you on vacation, too?”

Rachel smiled crookedly. “Kind of. I graduated. That means I don’t have to go to school anymore.”

Beth looked envious. “I wish I could do that.”

Rachel laughed. “You will.”

“Mommy, when can I graduate?”

“In another sixteen years after college, so don’t hatch any plots, kiddo.”

Beth huffed and pouted.

Rachel laughed and rose to her feet, stretching her limbs. “Have a good summer, Beth.”

Beth launched herself on Rachel again. “I wish you could read with me again, Miss Rachel.”

Rachel chuckled and she patted Beth’s back before pulling away. “We’re not in class anymore, you can just call me Rachel.”

“I like saying Miss Rachel more better.”

“Just better,” Rachel and Shelby corrected simultaneously. In that moment, Shelby was graced with a genuine smile from her only biological child. It hit her harder than she thought it would.

“I like ‘more better’ more better,” Beth said primly.

Rachel laughed. “I think I like it more better, too,” she said with a wink.

Beth beamed at her.

Shelby was reluctant to walk away and leave Rachel with that man, but she had to-- she had Beth to think about. But she called Rachel the moment she got home.

\--

Rachel sounded polite and eager when she answered the phone.

“This is Rachel.”

Shelby recognized that tone-- Rachel was clearly auditioning and was waiting for callbacks. She must have been excited to see an unfamiliar number on her cell phone caller ID. Shelby was sorry to disappoint, but this was more important.

“Hi Rachel. It’s Shelby.”

“Hi, Shelby,” Rachel still sounded polite, but she was less enthusiastic. “I really didn’t anticipate you to call me so quickly,” she said, sounding detached.

“I thought you said you broke up with him,” Shelby snapped. She was appalled she fell for it when Rachel said they were broken up.

“Actually, those were not my words. I’m appreciative of your concern-- sincerely,” Rachel added quickly. “But it’s unwarranted. My precise words to you were that he and I were no longer romantically involved and that is still true. We are, however, friends, which is an arrangement that is amenable to both of us.”

“Rachel, you can’t do this. I saw him hit you--”

“Technically it was more a slap. I think ‘hit’ implies a closed fist.”

“Rachel,” Shelby warned.

“Again, I appreciate your concern, though it’s unnecessary. But I don’t see what right you have to even attempt to intercede. I thought we established you and I would appreciate one another from _afar_ which implies a certain amount of physical and emotional distance. You calling me to question my choice in friends meets neither of these requirements.”

It was by far the most polite ‘fuck off’ that Shelby ever received, but the message was very clear.

“Rachel,” Shelby said quietly. “A man who would hit you at all but particularly in public is not friendship material. People are generally on their best behaviors in public. What does that tell you about him? What’s been going on when you’re not in public?”

“My relationship with him is none of your business. You gave birth to me, but you didn’t raise me. You don’t have the right to interrogate me about my life! It’s none of your business,” Rachel said coldly.

“You’re going to ruin your life,” Shelby said softly. “He’s going to ruin your life.” She could sense the danger brewing-- she _knew_ what she was talking about, at least, on this issue.

“You don’t know him,” Rachel said icily.

“And I don’t care to. _You’re_ my concern. _You’re_ my daugh--”

“Don’t say it. Don’t say that I’m your daughter because we both know I am not. You have _one_ daughter and her name is Beth. Again, I appreciate your concern, but it is _none_ of your business. I’m not dating him anymore, I’m not an _idiot_. But I can still be his friend. Perhaps _you_ can abandon friends who’ve been good to you just because of one mistake and perhaps you can walk away from people who disappoint your expectations and aren’t quite who you want them to be, but _I’m_ not someone who can do that. I don’t want to talk to you about this, _ever_ again. “

“Rachel, I understand I’m not your mom,” Shelby said, placating her. “But that doesn’t negate the fact I’m your mother. I gave birth to you, and you have someone knock around in your womb for three quarters of a year and you kind of build an attachment. Although you were a preemie.”

Rachel paused. “I was? My dads never told me that.”

“Two weeks early. I was standing in line at the grocery store because I had a craving for tapioca pudding--”

“I hate tapioca pudding. It’s vile.”

“I hated it too, but for some reason _you_ craved it.”

“I hardly think I should be blamed for a prenatal craving.”

“Well, how else would you explain it?” Shelby teased, grateful Rachel finally sounded engaged in the conversation in a manner that wasn’t angry and hostile. “I hate tapioca. So that craving must have come from you,” she joked.

“Maybe tapioca pudding contains some type of necessary nutrient that your body was lacking.”

Shelby laughed softly. “I was at the grocery store picking up tapioca pudding to satisfy a craving when I felt it-- and I just knew you were coming early. I went home and everyone told me I was nuts, that it was just because I ready to have you out. But I just knew you wanted out, that there was no way you wanted to share your birthday with New Years Eve.”

Rachel laughed a little. “As it is, it’s hard enough being a week before Christmas.”

Shelby chuckled. “So I went home and it wasn’t long until everyone realized they were wrong and I was right and you were ready for the world. You have to understand you were the first and only time in my life I’ve been pregnant. Everything was so weird and scary. I’d gone to the Emergency Room maybe eight or nine times in the three months before you were born because there would be times you’d stop moving for a long time or something would hurt more than normal. And I went a few times because I thought it was time. Everyone thought I was a paranoid lunatic. The day you were born, no one was ready for you but me.”

“Well,” Rachel said dryly. “You and I are very much alike in that we overprepare for even the most unlikely possibilities and every eventuality.”

Shelby laughed. But she quickly became somber. “Rachel, I can tell you from _experience_ that you’re putting yourself in a very precarious situation. I know you feel it’s none of my business and maybe it’s not. But you’re _very_ promising and I don’t want that to go to waste because you gave the benefit of the doubt to the wrong person.”

“It was only once,” Rachel said quietly. “It’s only happened once. And now we’re just friends. I think it’ll be okay.”

“And do you really want to put your personal safety and future on an assumption?” Shelby asked gently.

Rachel was quiet for a moment and then cleared her throat. “I’ll take that under advisement,” she said, and she sounded a little chillier than before. She sounded annoyed—the way Shelby used to with her own mother when she was Rachel’s age, like when her mother warned her that giving up a baby was much harder than she thought it was. “Was that all?”

Shelby sighed. “Yes,” she said.

“Okay, then. Good bye.”

“Wait.”

“Yes?”

Shelby was hesitant. “How would you feel about keeping in touch? I don’t want to take too much of your time,” she added quickly. “But maybe we can talk once in a while.”

Rachel sounded suspicious. “Why?”

Shelby paused as she contemplated that. Because. Because it was weird to have a child out in the world, know exactly who she was, where she was and _not_ have a relationship. Because while she didn’t exactly feel that mother-daughter bond with Rachel the way she felt for Beth, Rachel did touch something in her. Because she wished she’d never given Rachel away.

“I’d like to have some kind of a relationship with you,” Shelby said quietly. “And I know Beth would love it.”

It was low bringing up Beth, but Shelby couldn’t help it.

Rachel was quiet for a long time-- long enough Shelby pulled the phone away from her ear to look at it to make sure the call was still connected.

“Okay,” Rachel said finally. “But just over the phone. And you don’t ask me or talk to be about Ryan again.”

Shelby pursed her lips, but agreed.

\--

Shelby remembered Rachel as being verbose as a teenager, at least from the limited contact she had with Rachel back then. Rachel gave the impression she was still pretty talkative. However, their first few conversations which occurred over a series of months were stilted and awkward. Rachel answered Shelby’s questions monosyllabically or in short sentences and Rachel’s questions to Shelby generally focused on Beth.

Shelby was ready to throw in the towel, because it was, in fact, too hard and she thought idly to herself Rachel probably expected her to just walk away which was why Rachel did not seem at all invested in their relationship. But Shelby kept at the once-every-four-to-six weeks telephone chats because Beth always seemed so happy after she got off the phone with Rachel. Beth never questioned why they were talking to Rachel-- she just seemed to assume Rachel was a friend now. Shelby had to admit as much as she hated herself for it, if it weren’t for Beth, she would have just given up and walked away from Rachel again. But soon enough, she was glad she didn’t because mercifully, after a while, the conversations began to flow easier.

She was trying to focus and repair her own relationship with her older daughter while trying to allow the relationship between her older daughter and younger daughter flourish without letting Beth onto the true nature of their relationship.

Rachel seemed completely indifferent to letting Beth know their real relationship.

“That’s something you need to handle,” Rachel said bluntly. “You’re her mother, not me.”

“You are her sister though,” Shelby had pointed out mildly. “So you should have a say in what I tell Beth. If you don’t want her to know, I...I won’t tell her.”

“In what way is she my sister?” Rachel said. “You know I care for Beth. But you’re only my mother biologically. I don’t have a biological relationship with Beth, so we’re not sisters in that sense. You adopted Beth, but you have no legal relationship with me and so we’re not legally sisters either.”

“Adopting a child is as good as a biological connection,” Shelby said quietly.

“Yes, but giving one away is as good as severing it.”

“Rachel…”

“I’m not trying to be difficult. I’m just pointing out there is no reason to disclose I’m your daughter to Beth. You had an arrangement with my fathers, which you honored. I don’t see why she needs to be told anything. She may be very smart, but I think it’s a lot for a little girl to digest. But I’m not her mother and you know her best and clearly I would defer to you in any decision regarding Beth including you telling her that you’re my mother. If she wants me as her sister then I’d obviously encourage that and allow it to flourish but I’m not so sure I want to take that on right _now_. But it’s up to you because she’s your child. But I’m not yours.”

“Okay,” Shelby said softly. “I understand and I respect that.”

Shelby really wasn’t ready to have that conversation with Beth either, and so she made a conscious effort to keep that from Beth while encouraging as much interaction with Rachel as possible. It was not as easy as she thought it would be, which is why Quinn’s obvious desire to get back in touch with Rachel faded from her memory even as Quinn continued to call Beth regularly and see her occasionally. It wasn’t as though Rachel came up during each interaction, but Shelby was simply more preoccupied by her own relationship with Rachel than Quinn’s relationship to her. Shelby just honestly forgot Quinn wanted to get in touch with Rachel.

But the one day, close to Halloween, she remembered and of course, she brought it up to Rachel first.

“I think Quinn Fabray is very anxious to speak to you. Do you mind if I passed on your number to her?”

Rachel paused for a long moment. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

Shelby had come to care for Quinn-- how could she not? But she just cared more for Rachel-- how could she not? And so, despite the fact Shelby knew Quinn would want to talk to Rachel, she kept the fact she was talking to Rachel to herself. Ultimately, her loyalty was to Rachel.  
Beth still brought Rachel up to Quinn, but Quinn didn’t seem to pick up on the fact Beth was speaking about Rachel in the present tense, since Beth tended to keep everything in the present tense anyway.

\--

Children tended to assume everyone lived with their mother and/or father, and so one day, when it was December and getting close to Christmas, Beth innocently asked Rachel, “what are you going to do with your Mommy and Daddy for Christmas, Rachel?”

Shelby held her breath and she desperately wished she could hear Rachel’s response, but Beth was talking to Rachel on a cell phone.

Whatever explanation Rachel gave, it seemed to satisfy Beth, because Beth was quiet for a while and then responded with a simple “oh.”

Beth finished up and then Shelby took the phone for her turn.

“Was everything okay?” Shelby asked quietly.

“Sure,” Rachel said. “I just told her I have two dads and no mom, but that it would be really unfair to other people if I had two dads _and_ a mom.” She laughed a little. “She agreed with me and thought to have three parents when she only had one would be really greedy.”

Shelby laughed. “What are you doing for Christmas?” she asked quietly.

“I’m Jewish,” Rachel reminded.

“I know that, but you didn’t seem like you went home for Hanukkah.”

“I try not to go home if I can help it. I can get snow and terrible weather here. Why would I go to Lima for it?”

“True,” Shelby said quietly. She didn’t like the idea of Rachel not having anywhere to go. “So what are your plans?”

“I’m going to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas with my roommate and Ry…and my friend,” Rachel corrected hastily. “It’s tradition.”

Shelby bristled slightly because she knew Rachel was going to say Ryan and while Ryan was an off-limits topic of conversation, Shelby could not help but be worried. “Oh,” Shelby said softly. “Well… why don’t you come over for a while?”

“I don’t want to leave Crystal or my friend behind,” Rachel said. “They don’t have any family in the state either. They’d never leave me behind.”

Shelby was tempted to invite all of them, but she did not want Ryan in her home. If he could hit Rachel in public on Valentine’s Day, what else was he capable of?

“You don’t have to come over for the whole day. Just a couple of hours. You only live a few blocks away.”

“Maybe,” Rachel said. “I do have a present for Beth.”

“Just consider it okay? It’s not for another two weeks anyway.”

“Okay.”

“What are you doing for your birthday?” Shelby asked softly, tentatively.

Rachel was silent and Shelby thought maybe they’d lost their connection or Rachel hung up on her, but then Rachel spoke again.

“Uhh… _why_ do you want to know?”

Shelby rolled her eyes because Rachel couldn’t see her. Most of the time, their biological relationship didn’t come up, but when it did, Rachel acted like it didn’t exist at all. It frankly annoyed Shelby, but she never said anything about it because Rachel’s hostility on the subject was hardly unwarranted.

“Why don’t we do something? Go to dinner, the three of us-- you, Beth and me,” Shelby clarified. She paused. “Unless you’re going home.”

“No…” Rachel said. “I’m not…I’m not going home.”

Shelby didn’t think Rachel would. Rachel had a part in an off-Broadway play and she didn’t have the time to get away like that. And Rachel just said she didn’t go home unless she had to.

“So, why don’t we go to dinner? It’s your birthday. It’s special. It doesn’t have to be on your actual birthday. I’m sure you must have some kind of plans. But let us take you out.”

“Um….I…ah…okay.”

Shelby chuckled at the uncharacteristic ineloquence but then smiled. “Good,” she said, grinning from ear to ear.

\--

Rachel’s birthday fell on a Sunday that year and she had two shows-- one in the afternoon and one at night and so dinner was not feasible. Rachel had two shows the day before and her birthday party, so dinner on Saturday was out of the question, too.

They did, however, meet early for a birthday breakfast and considering it was on Rachel’s _actual_ birthday, that was nice.

Shelby thought it was funny Rachel, like Quinn, brought presents for Beth on her own birthday.

“One is just because I get to see you today,” Rachel said with a smile, handing Beth a wrapped gift in plain purple wrapping paper.

“But it’s _your_ birthday,” Beth pointed out.

Rachel grinned at her. “I know, but I wanted to give you something anyway.”

Beth grinned back. “Thank you.”

Rachel passed Beth another present, this time, wrapped in Christmas-themed paper with penguins, snowmen and elves on it. It was oversized and Beth’s eyes widened when she saw it. “And this is for Christmas, just in case I don’t see you again before Christmas.”

Beth beamed at her and yanked the shopping bag away from Shelby and practically shoved it into Rachel’s face. “This is from me and Mommy!” she exclaimed. “For your birthday!” She frowned. “We have your Christmas present, but we left it at home,” she lamented.

Shelby felt her cheeks flush. She’d deliberately left Rachel’s Christmas present at home because she hoped she could talk Rachel into coming over.

Rachel smiled. “That’s okay, it’s not a big deal, sweetheart. Thank you for my birthday present.” She looked up at Shelby. “Thank you,” she said calmly. She hesitated for a moment and then reached into the shopping bag she brought with her and pulled out a wrapped present in simple red paper with green ribbon. It was square and thin. “Here,” Rachel said, thrusting it toward Shelby and not really making eye contact. “This is for you. It’s for Christmas.”

Shelby took it. “Thank you,” she said softly.

“Mommy, can I unwrap them?” Beth asked. “Or do I have to wait for Christmas?” Beth looked pleadingly at her, clearing indicating the wait would be far too torturous.

“Well, why don’t we let Rachel go first, sweetheart. It’s her birthday and--”

“I don’t mind,” Rachel said.

“Go ahead, baby.” Shelby told Beth.

Beth tore open the larger box and squealed when she held up the box for a pink Discovery acoustic guitar.

“RACHEL! THANK YOU SO MUCH, I LOVE IT.”

Everyone turned to look at them and Shelby shushed Beth and quietly scolded Beth for being so loud. It was a little embarrassing, but only because Beth was usually much more sedate in a public setting. Beth, however, did not look in the least embarrassed, though she apologized.

Beth set the present down and she flung herself at Rachel, crawling into Rachel’s lap and wrapping her arms around Rachel’s neck. Shelby quickly took a picture as Rachel smiled and indulgently stroked Beth’s hair.

“Your ‘just because’ present isn’t as interesting,” Rachel said with a low laugh.

Shelby chuckled and Beth grinned at her. She sat in Rachel’s lap as she opened Rachel’s ‘just because’ present which happened to be a trilogy of children’s books.

“It’s about singing,” Rachel soothed when she saw the look on Beth’s face. “And you’re a good reader.”

Beth grinned at her and snuggled into Rachel. “Thank you!”

“Beth, go back to your seat, the food will be here soon,” Shelby said.

Beth scowled at her, but jumped off Rachel’s lap and climbed back into her chair.

\--

“Why don’t you open yours next?” Shelby asked softly, addressing Rachel.

Rachel ducked her head. “Uh, okay,” she said softly.

She opened the card first and grinned when she saw that it enclosed Beth’s most recent school picture.

“I _love_ your outfit,” Rachel whispered to Beth conspiratorially. She read the writing on the back of the picture out loud. “Beth Corcoran, grade 2.”

Beth smiled at her, but she beamed when Rachel dug into her purse to pull out her wallet and then stuck the picture into wallet.

Rachel opened the present and smiled.

“Beth picked it out,” Shelby said.

Rachel smiled crookedly at Shelby. “Gold stars are still my thing.”

Beth beamed at her. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” Rachel assured. “I don’t actually have a jewelry box anymore. I broke mine a couple months ago cleaning my room.”

The idea of a grownup cleaning her room seemed to tickle Beth, because she began to laugh. “You clean your room?”

Rachel chuckled. “I do. Thank you, Beth,” she said. She stood up and crouched next to Beth’s chair to give the child a hug. “I really love it.”

“Mommy put a necklace in it already for you.”

“Oh,” Rachel said. She got back into the seat and opened the box for the first time and pulled out the gold star necklace. She held it up and looked at it, admiring it.

“At first I thought you might already have one, but I don’t ever remember seeing you wear one,” Shelby said in a rush.

“I don’t, weirdly enough,” Rachel said. “Thank you. I’ll put it on right now.” She wore a St. Genesius medal around her neck, which initially confused Shelby since Rachel was Jewish until she remembered St. Genesius was one of the patron saints of the theatre and perhaps Rachel was just a little superstitious. Rachel took off the St. Genesius medal and put it into the jewelry box and pulled out the gold star necklace.

“Do you want me to help you?” Shelby asked.

“I can do it,” Rachel said, sounding a little petulant-- exactly the way Beth sounded when Shelby offered to help her with something Beth was convinced she could do on her own.

Rachel struggled for a moment, but then managed to work the clasp and turned to Beth first.

“What do you think?”

“It’s _beautiful_ ,” Beth beamed

Rachel smiled and then turned back to Shelby. “Well?”

“It looks lovely on you,” Shelby said softly.

“Thanks,” Rachel said. “Uh… do you want to open yours?”

“Rachel, you’re supposed to _hug_ Mommy,” Beth chided.

Rachel turned to smile at Beth. “You’re right, sweetheart,” she said. She stood up and awkwardly hugged Shelby. “Thank you,” she said.

When Rachel was born and they cleaned her up, she’d asked the nurses if she could hold her baby, but they told her no. They spirited her baby away ostensibly to clean her up a little more or run tests or something, Shelby was never certain, but even hours later when she begged for just a _second_ to hold her baby, she was told no.

But hours after that, when she was already mourning the loss of her baby and was certain she would never get to hold her baby, Rachel’s fathers stopped in to visit with flowers and the baby. And they let her hold Rachel for a few minutes. It was clear they were doing it more out of a sense of obligation, because they were both eyeing her like she was going to get up and run out of the hospital (it’d been tempting), but she always appreciated that kindness because it wasn’t as if they were actually obliged to let her hold Rachel. They only let her hold her for under a minute-- thirty seconds at best before they grabbed Rachel and made some excuses about having to take the baby back to the nursery. But she’d been grateful for it.

Twenty two years later, Rachel still smelled the same-- it was startling how Shelby still recognized it. She had the same sense of recognition when she first hugged her daughter when her daughter was fifteen. Shelby experienced the same thing with Beth-- she’d adopted Beth so soon after Beth was born that Beth just imprinted on her.

She was flooded with memories of the first time she held Rachel-- tiny, two weeks premature, but such a pretty pink, which was surprising because she’d seen other newborn babies who were red and scrunchy with misshapen heads who were days, weeks and months old and still in that post-birth ugly stage before they got cute. Rachel was just hours old and she was already pretty, and Shelby knew she wasn’t being biased because when she first saw Rachel right after delivery when she was just this red little blob with a shock of dark hair, Shelby wondered if she’d given birth to a monkey. Until, that is, her little monkey _looked_ at her and Shelby wanted desperately to keep her.

Rachel was stiff as Shelby held onto Rachel and she couldn’t help but sniff at Rachel which clearly creeped Rachel out because Rachel stiffened up even more and extricated herself. Rachel had a what-the-fuck look on her face before she sat down again and looked at Shelby.

“Open yours.”

Shelby opened her present and stared at it.

“You mentioned you lost your copy and you couldn’t find it anymore,” Rachel mumbled.

“I love it,” Shelby said.

Somewhere between moving to New York City and then moving back to Lima, Shelby lost her copy of _Songs of Love and Hate_ by Leonard Cohen on vinyl which she’d listened to incessantly during those early days in which she missed her baby so much, every square inch of her body ached. She’d left that part out when she told Rachel about it, of course, which is why Rachel flippantly responded “Leonard Cohen is an overrated, but highly talented Jew,” which was the sort of thing Noah Puckerman would have said and made Shelby laugh. Shelby had it on CD, but she was a vinyl snob about certain music.

“I couldn’t find the one you had, this is the remastered version,” Rachel said apologetically.

Shelby couldn’t even find the remastered version. She’d tried, of course, she just couldn’t find it. She wondered how Rachel managed to find it and how much it cost her. She was uncomfortable with the idea of her daughter spending money on her because Shelby remembered her own days of struggling in New York City very well.

“Thank you,” Shelby whispered. She couldn’t help it. She stood up and hugged Rachel again.

Rachel patted her on the back, but she seemed a little unnerved and Shelby felt badly she freaked her out.

Shelby wanted to tell Rachel that listening to this record was one of the few things that made those agonizing days after she left the hospital without Rachel feel a little easier, but only because Cohen sounded like he was in _so_ much pain. But she kept that to herself because it wasn’t something she wanted to foist on Rachel.

\--  
It was hard to believe Rachel was twenty two years old, and Shelby couldn’t help but stare at Rachel as they ate. Rachel was a careful eater-- very neat, very proper with excellent etiquette. She’d clearly been taught very well-- better than Shelby could have taught her considering Beth was very messily gathering her scrambled eggs and bacon into her toast with her fingers. Every time Shelby started to scold her for it, Beth would look at her with wide, innocent hazel eyes and a beaming smile and Shelby just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Beth ate with gusto, which Shelby liked. Rachel ate like eating was just something she did to stay alive, which Shelby didn’t like. It did tickle Shelby, however, that Beth reached across her to grab her coffee mug to try to attempt to drink it like Rachel did-- back straight posture perfect as she brought the mug to her lips. Rachel and Shelby stared at Beth for a moment as Beth did this, and then they exchanged smiles and laughed softly.

\--

“Will you come over on Christmas?” Beth asked Rachel when they were saying their goodbyes.

Rachel looked caught. “Sweetheart, I don’t think I can,” she said apologetically.

“But you said you weren’t going to be with your daddies!”

“I know, but…” Rachel trailed off. “I…okay,” she said. “I’ll come over for a couple of hours, okay?”

Beth beamed at her. “Yay!”

Shelby smiled. “I’ll text you the address.”

“Okay.”

She felt bad Rachel looked a little displeased, but she was glad Rachel agreed.

\--

Noah Puckerman always visited during Christmas. He usually went home for Hanukkah and visited with his mother and little sister in Lima for a while until he made his way to New York City to visit with Beth. Noah and Quinn had a standing invitation  
to Christmas. Quinn tended to alternate between going home to Lima to be with her mother and staying in the city to spend time with Beth, but this particular year she had a new job at a bank and couldn’t get enough time off to go home to Lima, and so, of course, she stayed in the city. And of course, she visited Beth.

Noah and Quinn were friendly with one another, though they each emphasized they had no interest in being together, particularly because they now resided on opposite coasts.

Shelby watched with a smile as Noah and Quinn exchanged a hug and cheek kisses when Quinn arrived at the apartment.

“Hey girl,” Noah drawled.

Quinn grinned. “Hey pig,” she teased.

Noah rolled his eyes and wrapped his arm around Quinn. “Beth!” he bellowed “Quinn is here.”

Beth burst out of the bathroom where she was washing off the remnants of a temporary tattoo which Noah said was bad ass, but Shelby balked at because she did not want some temporary tattoo on her daughter’s arm marring her Christmas photos.

Beth shrieked Quinn’s name as she ran to her and threw herself on the tall blonde. Quinn closed her eyes and held Beth close. Shelby saw Quinn and Noah exchange a brief look and a sad smile before Quinn picked Beth up. Beth wrapped her legs around Quinn’s waist and they were cheek to cheek as Quinn just kind of swayed, patting Beth’s back. Beth had a similar moment with Noah when he first arrived and Shelby commemorated both moments with a few snapshots which she planned to email to Quinn and Noah at the earliest opportunity. She did this for Beth, because one day, Beth may want to know where and whom she originally came from. But she also did this for Noah and Quinn, too. She thought about how much she wanted _this_ with Rachel and how differently things could have been and she could sympathize with Noah and Quinn who probably would have kept Beth for themselves, amicably passing Beth back and forth between each other without the need for a court order, if they’d just been a little older when they conceived her. They loved Beth, but Beth was hers and they all knew it.

They were sitting around, mostly just snacking and talking with Noah occasionally playing a song on the pink acoustic guitar Rachel had purchased for Beth when Shelby’s phone rang. She glanced down to see that it was Rachel and her heart sank slightly because she was certain Rachel was calling to cancel. Shelby excused herself to speak to Rachel privately.

“Hi Rachel,” Shelby greeted softly.

“Hi,” Rachel said. “I know I said I would be there today and I’m very sorry if I disappoint Beth. But I don’t think I should come today. I--”

“Rachel,” Shelby interrupted gently. “Just come by for an hour, she _really_ wants to see you. And I’d really like to see you as well.”

“I know,” Rachel said. “And I’d like to see you both as well, but…” she trailed off. She sighed with exasperation. “Something kind of…happened last night,” Rachel said. “I…I really shouldn’t.”

“What happened?” Shelby asked, concerned.

“Nothing,” Rachel said evasively. “I…I’m grateful for the invitation, but I’ll most respectfully decline.”

“Rachel,” Shelby said slowly. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“If it’s ‘nothing,’ then you should be here. What happened?”

Rachel sounded frustrated. “We just had an…incident at our apartment last night.”

“Did someone break in?!”

“No, nothing like that…I….” Rachel sighed. “Can I bring my roommate? I don’t want to leave her.”

“Sure,” Shelby said. “What about your friend Ryan?” she asked tentatively.

“He will not be joining us.”

“Then of course you and your roommate are invited. I’d love to meet her.”

“Okay…” Rachel still sounded uncertain.

\--

Rachel and her roommate, Crystal, showed up about forty minutes later. Shelby opened the door and beamed at the sight of her daughter and her daughter’s roommate, but her smile faded when she saw Rachel was wearing way too much foundation, powder and eye makeup. Her roommate, Crystal, was wearing far too much makeup as well and had a split lower lip. Shelby recognized an attempt to cover up bruises with makeup. When she looked closely, she saw bruising on both their faces.

“What the hell happened?” Shelby asked, appalled.

“Nothing,” Rachel and Crystal chorused.

Shelby clenched her jaw.

“ _What_ happened?” she demanded through gritted teeth.

Rachel seemed unruffled by the tone, but Crystal clearly had an intimidating mother or something because she wilted instantly.

“This dork’s crazy ex-boyfriend went all--”

Rachel elbowed Crystal violently in the ribs, which caused Crystal to punch Rachel in the shoulder as hard as she could.

“Ow!” Rachel hissed, kicking her foot up to kick Crystal as hard as she could mange in the shins.

“Girls!” Shelby said, and she suppressed the urge to roll her eyes because she never thought she’d have to referee an altercation between her adult daughter and her adult daughter’s roommate. Shelby looked sternly at Rachel. “What’s this about your ex-boyfriend?”

Rachel averted her eyes. “He’s not very…healthy right now,” she said softly.

Crystal snorted, but Rachel looked at her murderously and Crystal quieted down.

“What happened?”

“He wasn’t himself. Really, this isn’t who he is.”

Shelby ignored her. “What happened?” she asked Crystal.

“Psycho Ryan went crazy last night and we had to call the cops. They put him on an involuntary hospital hold.” Crystal snorted in derision. “Crazy fool.” She glared at Rachel. “Stop looking at me like that! He _is_ a crazy fool.”

“Many people have been involuntarily hospitalized,” Rachel cut in. “It does not diminish their worth as a person. Brittany Spears, for instance.”

“Brittany Spears is appalling,” Crystal said. “And I will never change my mind about that.”

“Are you girls okay?” Shelby asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Crystal said. “Thanks for asking.” She rolled her eyes at Rachel. “How were you going to keep this a secret? She has eyes, you made me think she had cataracts or something with the way you said we were going to get away with this.”

“Shut up,” Rachel muttered.

Shelby sighed, just grateful at least the guy seemed to be away from Rachel for now. There was no way Rachel would be his friend after this-- she was way too smart to give someone another chance after something like this. “Come in here,” Shelby said, ushering her guests inside.

\--

“Rachel!”

Beth ran at Rachel like a missile. Rachel laughed and held Beth close. “Hi, sweetheart.”

Quinn and Noah came within Rachel’s visual range.

“Hi, Rachel,” Quinn said mildly.

Rachel looked at her and then at Noah. She turned to Shelby and eyed her with a mixture of disdain and betrayal.

“Hello, Quinn,” Rachel said. She dismissed the blonde quickly and turned her attention to Noah.

“Hello, Noah. You’re looking well.”

“Hey, Rach,”

Rachel turned back to glare at Shelby and Shelby realized that while she’d warned Noah and Quinn that morning Rachel would be coming, she’d never told Rachel that Noah and Quinn would be here.

Crap.


	3. Chapter 3

Quinn stared at Rachel for a long moment. Or at least, it felt long. In real time, it probably wasn’t that long-- hardly as long as it felt. But long enough Quinn got a look at her former girlfriend. Rachel was still as short and thin as ever, but her overall appearance had matured. Her cheekbones seemed higher and sharper and Quinn had to admit to herself that she’d stared. Rachel at sixteen had a certain adolescent prettiness which hinted at the beauty that was to come. Rachel at twenty-two fulfilled that promise of beauty.

She watched as Rachel exchanged a tight hug and cheek kiss with Puck and then Rachel turned to her. There was both disdain and regret in Rachel’s face-- it hadn’t been so long that Rachel was foreign to her, and so Quinn could still read her. And then Rachel gave her a small smile.

“Hello,” Rachel repeated. She gave Quinn a cursory hug.

“Hi,” Quinn breathed. She held Rachel a little closer. “We should talk,” she whispered in Rachel’s ear. “Later, once it’s time to go.”

Rachel pulled back and looked at her a little warily. Quinn noticed the bruise on Rachel’s eye which was well-covered, but not quite fully concealed. Quinn wanted to ask, but didn’t. Rachel glanced at the girl she introduced as her roommate, Crystal and shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll have time today,” she said, a little apologetically.

“Maybe later then?” Quinn asked.

Rachel stared at her for a moment and then nodded. “Okay.”

\--

Quinn knew Shelby was back in touch with Rachel and also knew the story of how Rachel came back into Shelby’s life. But she had no idea they were close enough to warrant spending Christmas together, though when Quinn thought about it, she wasn’t close enough to Shelby to warrant spending Christmas together either. But Quinn was here because of Beth. It was hard not to consider Beth hers, though she knew in terms of maternity, Beth really belonged to Shelby. She was grateful for every moment she got to spend with Beth, and she had no regrets about the adoption-- Beth was happy and clearly had a really good life. But sometimes she wistfully thought about what it would be like to be the one to make Beth breakfast and take her to school. But she knew that was selfish because Shelby was giving Beth a better life than she could have.

\--

Shelby’s apartment was warm and toasty with the heater on and though Crystal took off her scarf, coat and a long-sleeve shirt, to wear a t-shirt, Rachel kept her scarf on and wore a long-sleeve shirt. Eventually, Beth commented on it and asked if Rachel wasn’t hot. Rachel chuckled and said she was okay, that she was always cold but Quinn distinctly remembered gently teasing Rachel for her propensity to wear short skirts without leggings or stockings even in the dead of Ohio winter, and Rachel laughed and said she never got cold. Beth pointed to Rachel’s eye and Crystal’s split lip and finally blurted ‘what happened?’ which showed a surprising amount of restraint for a second grader.

Rachel and Crystal exchanged a look and then launched into some ridiculous story about an on-set accident which only Beth believed.

“Can I see your play?” Beth asked hopefully.

Rachel looked genuinely regretful. “I’m sorry, Beth. It’s a play for grownups. But the next time I’m in a play that kids can watch, I’ll make sure you get a ticket, okay?”

Beth looked disappointed. “Okay.”

It wasn’t as awkward an affair as Quinn thought it would be. Beth took centre stage and the kid made out like a bandit for Christmas.

Rachel and Crystal only stayed for an hour and half and then they exchanged a look and stood up.

“We should get going,” Rachel said.

“Thank you so much,” Crystal said, shaking Shelby’s hand.

Quinn and Rachel had already exchanged numbers and so Rachel gave her a slight nod. “See you later, Quinn.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

And then Rachel left.

\--

She really didn’t anticipate Rachel to meet up with her the next day, but Rachel agreed and by 3pm, they were sitting across from each other in a coffee shop midway between their apartments.

Rachel had on another scarf she did not take off and the bruised eye was a little more glaring than it was the day before. Quinn thought she saw bruising around Rachel’s neck, but she wasn’t sure.

“So what happened?” Quinn asked quietly, pointing toward her own eye to illustrate.

Rachel shrugged. “I had a misunderstanding with a friend.”

Quinn paused. “A boyfriend?”

“Did Shelby ask you to talk to me?”

Quinn raised an eyebrow. “No.”

Shelby really hadn’t

“It was just a misunderstanding,” Rachel said softly. “He has some…problems I was unaware of.”

“Sounds like someone you shouldn’t be friends with,” Quinn commented neutrally.

Rachel’s eyes hardened. “I don’t abandon friends just because they or some of their actions may be considered unpopular.”

Quinn flushed. Rachel wasn’t a top five regret or even a top _twenty-five_ regret, but Rachel was definitely _a_ regret. She wished now she’d been more patient, kinder and less afraid of the bullshit high school hierarchy. But Rachel wasn’t innocent in all that either.

“I think hitting someone is more ‘dangerous’ than ‘unpopular,’ don’t you think?”

“He’s my friend. And he has some fairly serious mental health issues. What kind of person would I be to abandon my friend? He’s been good to me.”

Quinn put her hands up. “Okay, okay. This really wasn’t why I asked to meet with you.”

Well, it was part of it, but not really.

“What was the reason?”

Quinn shrugged. “I just thought since you and I were both involved in Beth’s life we should…you know, be civil. And maybe we should clear the air. I don’t want things to be awkward around Beth.”

“Oh,” Rachel said.”Okay. That would certainly behoove us both, although I thought yesterday was fine.”

Quinn smiled. “Me too.”

Rachel smiled back. “High school was a long time ago, Quinn,” she said softly.

“I know,” Quinn said, although really, it wasn’t _that_ long ago.

Rachel bit her lower lip in that adorable way that somehow managed to be charmingly endearing and intensely carnal at the same time. But then again, Rachel had always managed to somehow pull ofF being cute and seductive simultaneously. “I’ll go first,” Rachel said quietly with a sigh.

“Uh… okay…”

“I was…pretty unkind to you while we were dating. I knew it even at the time, I just couldn’t stop myself. My parents were going through a very bitter separation and it upset me. I took it out on you.”

“I remember,” Quinn said softly. “I should have been more understanding.”

When Quinn looked back on it, she should have seen the volatile mood swings and the temper tantrums for what they were, but she’d been too bewildered by the abrupt change in her sweet girlfriend and she felt tricked and betrayed rather than worried and concerned. Instead of trying to comfort Rachel, she’d snapped at her. She wanted to scream ‘this isn’t you! Talk to me!’ but instead she screamed, ‘get on medication, you crazy loser!’

Quinn never regretted it at the time, though the break-up made her bitchier and nastier than usual-- she just thought Rachel was a crazy fucking bitch. But when she looked back on it with a little more distance and maturity, she knew if she’d tried even just a little to reach out to Rachel instead of snapping things like, “what is your damage, Man Hands? Too much testosterone today?” to her _girlfriend_ then maybe Rachel wouldn’t have reacted in kind.

“I think that was asking for more than what would be considered reasonable,” Rachel said wryly. “I was pretty awful to you. I was…cruel,” Rachel admitted with a soft sigh. “And I realize this is too little, too late, but my actions and the things I said to you were really more of a reflection of what was going on with me than how I felt about you. I know I said some horrible things to you, but I didn’t really mean them. And I’ve regretted we didn’t part on better terms.”

Quinn sighed softly. That was good to hear. When she thought about what happened to Rachel, she was still bewildered even as she looked back on herself with self-reproach.

The change had been abrupt. Rachel was always a little emotionally volatile, but in a funny way. She was never moody or angry, she was just excitable and sometimes she was downright _ecstatic_. But Rachel was never mean, and she seemed completely indifferent to the insults and the Slushies she’d still received constantly even though she and Rachel had become ‘friendly.’ Her HBIC status protection did not extend to Rachel, and while she found this regrettable while they were dating, once they were broken up, Quinn had to admit she’d taken a malicious glee in seeing Rachel suffer.

While they were dating, Rachel suddenly became mean. That was the ultimate cause of their break up. She didn’t start Slushing anyone or hurling mean, unprovoked insults, but she stopped ignoring attacks and started standing up for herself. Which would have been fine, _good_ even, except she went for the jugular and so when Dave Karofsky hurled homophobic comments about her fathers, Rachel pointed out the most homophobic people tended to be people who were uncomfortable with their own homosexual impulses, and when Kurt made some bitchy comment, but made a big deal out of every comment hurled at him, Rachel pointed it out to him which utterly ruined the friendship they were building and when Finn or Mr. Schuester got a little too self-righteous, Rachel pointed that out, too. On two occasions, Rachel was so mean, she made Brittany cry. On another three occasions, she made Santana cry. She made nearly _every_ member of glee cry at one time or another, and somehow, it always felt justified. It was a free-for-all from which _no one_ was safe and for the last three months of their senior year, Rachel unknowingly had McKinley High School quaking in fear. She was angry and vicious, and everything she said was so painfully true the entire school had all their secret fears and insecurities exposed by Rachel Berry who became rumored to be a psychic witch.

At first, Quinn kind of enjoyed it. It was extremely aesthetically pleasing to see Rachel in bitch mode.

But that bitchiness started being directed to her.

When she’d complain about Rachel being late for a date, Rachel would sneer at her and ask what the big rush was, was Quinn ovulating and planning on getting impregnated again? The first time Rachel said something mean to her, she’d been so stunned, she just kind of sat there and let Rachel drive her to the restaurant. As mean as the impregnating comment was, Quinn thought it was just a fluke. Everyone could have their off days.

But then Rachel just started being mean to her on a more consistent basis-- ignoring her calls and text messages, blowing off dates, that sort of thing. Rachel always seemed so emotionally intuitive to her, but Rachel just seemed to be completely indifferent to how she was feeling. Rachel seemed like she just stopped giving a shit.

So Quinn gave as good as she got-- better, even. She just wanted that sweet, cuddly girlfriend back, but Quinn had no idea how to go about that. And patience with Rachel wasn’t her strong suit back then.

By the time they broke up, Quinn was back to calling Rachel “Manhands” and ‘Tranny” and teaming up with Santana to make Rachel’s life as miserable as possible. For her part, Rachel had a way of looking at Quinn that made Quinn feel like a cockroach or something. It was so filled with disdain and disgust. There was hatred there, too.

Quinn Slushied Rachel one day after their _final_ finals during their senior year. Rachel was cleaning up in the restroom and all the good feelings from their Nationals win just a week earlier were gone.

“I hate you,” Quinn snapped, smirking as she watched Rachel clean up.

Rachel was bent over the sink, peering into the mirror, and wiping Slushie out of her hair. She straightened up and walked slowly to Quinn. She looked up at Quinn and smiled. “You,” Rachel whispered. “Don’t mean a thing to me, so I can’t even bring myself to hate you. You can do whatever you want to me, but it will never change the fact you don’t mean anything to me.” She paused. “You never did. Do you remember what I told you at that ridiculous Celibacy Club meeting sophomore year? I told you girls want it just as much as boys and I meant it. We just fucked, that’s it and even in that, you’re completely forgettable. You’re _frigid_ , Quinn. You have no passion because you’re too concerned about what other people think of you to really express any. It’s pathetic. You may hate me, but I don’t care about you, except to feel pity for how miserable you’re always going to be by virtue of who you are.”

It was so cruel, Quinn actually gasped. She swallowed hard and stared at Rachel, but all Rachel did was stare back at her, completely unflinchingly and smirked.

“I never liked you,” Quinn lied, trying to save some pride. “You were nothing to me. You’re a pathetic waste of space. And I wish your parents had sold you back or just gotten rid of you, because you’re nothing. I may mean nothing to you,” she said, her voice wavering. “But you are _actually_ nothing. At least I have friends, at least people like me. No one at this school has ever liked you, not even a teacher.” But her voice gave herself away by its tremor. She’d fallen in love with Rachel and to have Rachel tell her ‘you don’t mean a thing to me and you never did’ was devastating.  
  
Rachel sneered at her. “Good. I’m glad I meant nothing to you, because otherwise I _might_ feel guilty. But luckily, it’s mutual. Now go away. Don’t you have some fundamentalist Christian hypocrite meeting you need to attend to plan your latest hate crime?”

“No one’s ever liked you,” Quinn snapped again. It wasn’t the first time she’d said it to Rachel in the months leading up to their breakup and the months following it. But it was the first time she really wanted to make it count. “And no one ever will. You’re going to die alone. And I hope it’s soon.”

Familiarity clearly bred contempt, because Rachel was used to that particular insult and just smirked in response. She didn’t seem to care.

“When I told you I loved you, I was thinking of Finn.”

Quinn released a cry of outrage and her hand snapped up to slap Rachel in the face as hard as she could. The bathroom echoed with the sound of her hand striking Rachel’s face and her hand _hurt_ from the sheer force. She didn’t even wait for a response, she fled right after that. She ran to her car and cried for twenty minutes before she drove home.

The next time she saw Rachel was at graduation, when Rachel looked through her.

\--

Even the most heartfelt apologies tended to have the same vocabulary (‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I regret’) and so it was over pretty quickly. Quinn was left gazing at Rachel for a long moment before she spoke again.

“I was pretty awful to you, too.”

She could never quite bring herself to be sweet as she wanted to be to Rachel, even when things were good between them. It had just been outside her capabilities or something back then. Rachel always took a backseat to the Cheerios or to Santana or Brittany or anything or anyone else that came along. Rachel never commented on it, and always seemed so understanding about it, Quinn took it for granted. That is, until, Rachel became a stranger.

“I think you were mostly reacting to me,” Rachel said with a sigh.

“No,” Quinn said, shaking her head. “I was a jerk to you way before you were a jerk to me. I’m sorry about everything. It’s not like I was surprised we ended. I always knew we’d crash and burn pretty epically…”

Rachel chuckled. “Yes.”

“But I didn’t want it to end like that,” Quinn said quietly. “That was pretty awful, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop either.”

Rachel gave her a small smile. “It was a long time ago.”

“Yeah, but not that long.”

“No,” Rachel agreed. “Not that long.”

\--

It was awkward after that and they finished their coffees and caught each other up on the current states of their lives, but after that, there wasn’t much to talk about.

“So, we should get going,” Rachel murmured.

“Yeah.”

They stood up and Rachel pushed in their chairs. They walked out the door together and they turned to walk in the opposite directions-- Rachel, east and Quinn, west, when Rachel turned and took Quinn by the elbow.

“Have dinner with me tomorrow night,” Rachel said softly, not waiting for Quinn to turn.

Quinn felt her heart beat a little faster, but she simply nodded and turned. “Okay.”

Rachel gave her a toothy, full-on grin and Quinn couldn’t help but lower her eyes and then peek up at Rachel again. She beamed.

\--

Because it was Rachel, they discussed the meaning and intent of dinner (‘aside from that meal between lunch and the next day’s breakfast, Quinn’) and mutually agreed it was just two old friends (conveniently leaving out they’d parted on less than amiable terms) getting reacquainted with one another.

But Quinn still couldn’t quell the excitement she felt. And she couldn’t deny the fact she took an extra long time getting ready to meet Rachel for dinner than she would have for some other ‘friend.’ She left work early, went home, washed her face, put on a clarifying mask and then another moisturizing mask before she took a shower and exfoliated her skin with extra vigor She moisturized her skin and got frustrated when her make-up didn’t look the way she wanted it to, so she washed her face and started over. She spent extra long getting her hair just right and dismissed the outfit she’d chosen earlier in the day. She told herself she just wanted to prove to Rachel that she was doing just fine, but she also really wanted to look good _for_ Rachel.

\--

When Rachel called, Quinn was sure it was to cancel and she released a frustrated shriek and threw a mini tantrum in which she sat on her bed and kicked the surface with the heels of her feet a few times before she calmly answered the phone.

“Hey,” she drawled.

“Quinn!” Rachel exclaimed. “I’m so sorry! I’m running late! My show started fifteen minutes late.”

Quinn chuckled. “Oh, okay. No big deal.”

“I just wanted to let you know so you don’t wait too long.”

Quinn laughed. “Thanks for letting me know.”

She felt like an idiot, but she was a happy idiot.

\--

Their dinner together started thirty minutes later than anticipated, but Quinn didn’t mind.

Rachel apologized profusely, her hands gesturing demonstratively as she explained the day’s events which led to her tardiness.

Quinn had to laugh because it was like seeing the Rachel she knew in high school again-- excited and sweet. She kind of loved it.

\--

As sweet as Rachel had been in high school, Quinn wouldn’t have used the words ‘charming’ to describe her. Rachel could turn on the charm to manipulate a teacher, but she was always a little too weirdly high-strung to really be considered _charming_. Back then, Quinn found Rachel more endearing than anything else. And she was only endearing once Quinn really got to know Rachel.

Now Rachel was _charming_. She smiled at the hostess, bending her head slightly to peer up with hooded eyes and suddenly they no longer had to sit at the crappy table by the bathroom, they got moved to a recently vacated table by the window.

“Thank you,” Rachel murmured, sincerely. “That was so sweet of you, and you didn’t have to because we were late for our reservation. I really appreciate how you’re accommodating us.”

“It’s not a big deal,” the hostess said with a smile. “We’re not even that busy tonight.”

“Really,” Rachel said insistently. “I know it kind of was. Thank you so much.”

“It’s really not a big deal, but you’re welcome.”

Rachel gave the hostess a toothy grin before the hostess walked away. Rachel waited for Quinn to pick the preferred seat before she sat down herself.

“I’m so sorry for being tardy,” Rachel said for the third time since they met up.

“It’s really okay.”

Rachel was flirty with the waiter, but not in any obvious way. When he was late bringing the menus and perfunctorily apologized, Rachel gave him a dazzling smile and said it was okay, and he couldn’t help but smile back.

“I still waitress,” Rachel explained to Quinn once he was gone. “It’s how I get my rent paid on time.”

“Off Broadway shows don’t play much?” Quinn asked, she asked kind of teasingly, but she actually had no idea.

Rachel snorted. “Let’s just say I’m glad the restaurant I waitress at is open 24 hours, because I need those odd-hour shifts.”

Quinn smiled. “What’s your play about anyway?”

Rachel had just kind of skimmed over that when they’d talked the other day.

Rachel chuckled. “It’s about a group of friends in the 1960s. It’s pretty terrible. I’m nude for about a quarter of it and I have a truly abysmal solo about the dangers of back-alley abortions. I die at the end-- I throw myself into a lake like it’s fucking _Swan Lake_ or something.” Rachel rolled her eyes self-deprecatingly and blew out a breath.

Quinn stared at Rachel for a long moment and she wasn’t sure if she felt amusement or horror. Maybe a little bit of both. She was also a little taken aback by Rachel’s casual use of the word ‘fuck,’ because Rachel had never been casual with cuss words. In fact, Quinn had to bite her tongue for blurting, ‘you just swore!’ which had more to do with Beth’s influence than any genuine astonishment. “Rachel, that sounds _horrible_.” She was a little intrigued Rachel was nude for a quarter of the play. She wondered if Rachel was just kidding.

“I know,” Rachel said with a small laugh. “I’m a little embarrassed for myself, but I was auditioning for everything and well…ticket sales are surprisingly robust. But I’m not planning on this being the most memorable role of my career. But it’s a paycheck and I’m just glad to be doing _something_. I’m looking forward to doing something else though.”

Quinn smiled. “I’m curious about it now, what with abysmal solos about back-alley abortions and all.”

Rachel laughed. “Let me know a day when you’re free. I’ll leave a couple of tickets at will call.”

Quinn smiled again. “Okay.”

\--

Rachel’s job was much more interesting to Quinn than talking about her own job, partly because ‘Financial Analyst’ was exactly was boring and dreary as it sounded. But Rachel acted _fascinated_ by it (“because I never have much money and I’m fascinated with anyone who deals with a superfluity of it,” Rachel joked wryly) and Quinn rambled on about her job longer than she thought possible. She _hated_ her job, but she was grateful for it.  
  
Dinner led into a few drinks at the bar a few doors down and then Rachel accompanied her home. Rachel walked her to the door and reached for Quinn’s hand, giving it a soft squeeze.

“It was good to see you,” Rachel murmured.

“Yeah,” Quinn agreed softly. “It was really good to see you, too. Thank you for dinner.”

In spite of the way Quinn protested, Rachel paid the bill, practically vaulting over Quinn to give the waiter her ATM card.

Rachel smiled. “Do you forgive me?”

Quinn was puzzled. “For what?”

Rachel smiled crookedly. “For everything. For high school.”

“It was a long time ago,” Quinn said with a smile. “Of course I forgive you.” She paused. “Do you forgive me?”

“It was a long time ago,” Rachel parroted teasingly. “Of course.” She reached out to touch Quinn’s upper arm and grasped it for a moment, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You have my number. Call me sometime, okay?”

“Okay,” Quinn said softly.

Rachel took a few steps back and waved before she turned and walked away without so much as a hug or a cheek kiss. Quinn pushed down a wave of disappointment-- she didn’t know why she’d been expecting a goodnight kiss, but she had.

\--

She got to work the next day to see people crowded around her desk. For a moment she was sure she’d screwed something up and now she was fired. But when she reached her desk, she saw a floral arrangement. It wasn’t huge or anything, but it was _beautiful_.

“Who sent you flowers?” Antoinette, one of her friends/coworkers asked.

“I’m not sure,” Quinn muttered, reaching for the card.

_I had a great time last night and I hope you did, too.  
Will you go out on a proper date with me?_

_P.S. I know this is somewhat outdated and old-fashioned  
custom, but I hope it’s one you don’t mind too much_

_-R_.

Quinn swallowed hard. She knew the feeling rising in her belly. She was falling. ‘Oh hell,’ Quinn thought.

“Quinn’s got a girlfriend,” Monique, another friend/coworker teased in sing-song.

“Oh shut up,” Quinn said, blushing.

The last time she and Rachel dated, they were _terrible_ to one another. No one made her feel as bad about herself as Rachel made her feel. Quinn dated many people since dating Rachel and as awful as some of those relationships had been-- some of them downright abusive, she would still count Rachel as her worst relationship. For her part, she’d never treated someone she dated as terribly as she treated Rachel-- she’d learned a lot from that relationship about how to treat people. Before Rachel, she’d only had boyfriends and she treated them all pretty badly, and they never called her out on it. Rachel never really called her out on it either, until, of course, Rachel started treating her pretty badly, too. It was only after dating Rachel that Quinn realized she couldn’t just treat people how ever she wanted, and so she’d learned to be a little kinder and gentler. At first, it was partly out of fear-- she didn’t want someone to turn on her the way Rachel turned on her, and she never wanted to hear someone she cared about tell her ‘you never meant anything to me’ ever again. But soon enough, it was because she realized it honestly did just make the relationship better. It was such a ridiculously obvious thing, it just never really occurred to Quinn sooner.

Quinn wanted to gently tell Rachel ‘no’ and explain the reasons for declining, hoping Rachel would understand. Quinn wanted to do this, but instead, she called Rachel immediately and groused a little when it went to voicemail.

“I’m in,” Quinn said softly. “Call me.”

\--

Despite all the anticipation Quinn felt leading up to their first real date, she really couldn’t remember much of it. She remembered the restaurant and how the restaurant brought an excess of bread and eight different kinds of butter and she’d filled up on the bread and butter before the rest of her meal came. But that was her last real concrete memory of it. The next real concrete memory was the goodnight kiss when Rachel once again walked her to her door.

“Do you want to come in?”

Rachel shook her head. “I have to be at the theatre early,” she said apologetically.

“Oh,” Quinn said and she was mostly disappointed, but a small part of her was relieved because she wasn’t sure what she would do if Rachel came in.

“C’mere,” Rachel said softly, pulling Quinn closer.

They were standing so close together that when Quinn lowered her head ever so slightly, their noses grazed.

Rachel reached up to touch Quinn’s cheek. “Hi,” she breathed.

“Hi,” Quinn whispered.

“Typically, I don’t ask for permission as _obviously_ one would know from the emotional ambiance if a kiss is appropriate or not…”

Quinn laughed softly. “Are you going to kiss me?” she asked, peering into Rachel’s dark brown eyes.

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

God, yes. But Quinn couldn’t say the words out loud.

Quinn swallowed hard.

Rachel seemed to confuse Quinn’s nervousness for hesitation because she took a couple steps back.

“Maybe next time,” Rachel said lightly, though she clearly looked disappointed.

“No, wait,” Quinn whispered, a little panicked that a moment like this would pass her by because it was highly unlikely she would get it back. She took a couple steps forward, dipped her head a little and pressed her lips against Rachel’s.

It was memorable for a variety of reasons-- because it was Rachel, because it was a _really_ good kiss, because it’d been so long, but it was so familiar. Mostly, however, it was memorable because just when Quinn was ready to go crazy and she was warm all over and she didn’t care if she ever took another breath or not, Rachel abruptly pulled away, covered her mouth and nose and released a soft sneeze.

“Excuse me!” Rachel managed to squeeze out of pure reflex.

Quinn stared at Rachel for a moment. Rachel looked _mortified_ , like she was going to run away. Quinn grabbed her before Rachel could.

“God bless you,” Quinn drawled.

Rachel was blushing a deep red. “Thank you.”

“You aren’t allergic to me, are you?”

Rachel turned an even deeper shade of scarlet. “No!”

Quinn chuckled and lightly swatted Rachel on the butt. “Are you going to take me out again?”

Rachel was still a deep red. But she somehow managed to sound coy. “Would you like me to take you out again?”

Quinn smiled wryly. “That’s not the proper way to ask a lady out on a date, you know. I remember you having better manners than that,” she teased. “I have high expectations and standards.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow but curtseyed dramatically. “Will you do me the honor of going out with me again, Miss Fabray?” she asked soberly, though she looked like she was trying not to laugh. She paused. “I promise not to sneeze next time. Not that I control such things, but obviously I will make an effort.”

Quinn snorted. “Rachel, that is the third worst way I’ve ever been asked out on a date.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow. “What was the first and second?”

Quinn snorted again. “Second worst, Finn got his mom to ask me out for him because he was too nervous to do it himself.”

Rachel laughed delightedly, clapping her hands together. “Quinn Fabray, how does that rank as second worst? That is very sweet,” she chided.

“You’ve clearly never had a middle aged mom ask you out using a teenage boy’s vocabulary,” Quinn said dryly.

Rachel shrugged in concession.

“First worst, this guy two years ago asked me if I wanted to grab some chow.”

Rachel smiled and looked at her curiously. “And what devastating barb did you say to cut him down for daring to ask you out in such an inelegant manner?”

Quinn blushed. “I said yes. We went out for a while until _he_ broke up with me a few months ago.”

“So you just got out of a relationship?”

“I wouldn’t call it a relationship so much as a relation _shit_ , I believe that’s the term people are using these days.”

The relationship with Kenneth was a disaster that left a bad taste in her mouth when she thought about it, but mostly she was happy to be finally free of it.

“What people?”

“I don’t know, _people_. Why are you interrogating me?”

“I did not realize asking for clarification constituted an interrogation. But I’ve forgotten you do not like to be questioned.”

“That’s right. I am always right and anyone who questions me must be punished. If I could, I’d make people who question me crawl on their knees and beg for my mercy.” Quinn said, punching the air with her fist. Her eyes took on a gleam as she thought about what it would be like if she could make everyone bend to her will. She could get a bacon egg McMuffin at 11am, meeting times could be changed to accommodate how early or late she was running that day and she would always be able to find cute shoes in her size instead of always finding cute shoes in sizes far too small or far too large.

Rachel looked thoroughly amused. “It’s strangely comforting to know you still entertain fantasies of world domination. When we were in school together, you used to talk about instituting the death penalty for anyone who called a pregnant teenage girl ‘Juno.’”

Quinn smiled crookedly. “Only you could go from asking me out on a date to insulting me.”

Rachel smiled back. “I wasn’t insulting you, I was merely pointing out a trait in you that I find endlessly appealing and endearing. I believe this illustrates why I would like you to go out with me. So will you go out on another date with me?”

Quinn bit her lower lip and then smiled as Rachel gazed at her. “How’s tomorrow?”

Rachel grinned. “Tomorrow is perfect, but it may have to be late. After my show, I mean.”

Quinn hesitated. “Can I see your show?”

Rachel looked at her, her expression difficult to read, but Quinn thought she sensed some trepidation. Rachel’s cheeks pinked. “You remember I’m…” she cleared her throat. “Unclothed in the play, right?”

Quinn felt a mixture of excitement and nervousness. “Oh! Oh, yeah…I…sorry…I…”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Rachel joked.

Quinn laughed. “It’s a deal.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Quinn shrugged. “Why not?” she asked with a grin. She laughed at the stunned expression on Rachel’s face. “I’m kidding! Maybe it’s still too early for me to see your show,” she conceded despite the fact Rachel had offered her tickets. But things were different now.

“Oh,” Rachel said softly. She grinned. “You can still show me yours, you know.”

Quinn gently slapped Rachel’s shoulder “Rachel!”

Rachel shrugged. “I think it’s perfectly normal to want to see you naked,” Rachel said frankly. “You are very very pretty. And your body is banging.”

Quinn burst into laughter, slightly appalled but mostly amused. “You did not just say that to me.”

Rachel was flippant. “It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

Quinn blushed. She knew people _thought_ she was pretty, but it was hard sometimes to feel she was. “I…”

“You’re beautiful,” Rachel said softly, leaning in close. “You always have been,” Rachel said sincerely, cocky attitude and joking tones gone. “Can you fault me for wanting to see you undressed?”

Quinn swallowed hard. “Do you want to come in?” She would have done anything with Rachel that moment.

Rachel blushed and smiled. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like I wanted to see you undressed _tonight_ ,” she said softly. “There’s no pressure.”

“Do you want to come in?” Quinn repeated softly.

“I can’t,” Rachel demurred, ducking her head. “I need to get some sleep and though I have no intentions of pressing you for anything you don’t want to do, I also doubt either of us will get much sleep if I stay.”

“Are you sure?” Quinn asked lightly. She was both disappointed and a little relieved, but mostly she was just charmed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Rachel murmured. She leaned up on tiptoe to kiss Quinn’s cheek. “We have a second chance. I promise not to screw it up this time,” she whispered in Quinn’s ear before she stood flat on her feet again. “Goodnight, Quinn,” she said, peering up at her.

Quinn tucked a lock of Rachel’s hair behind her ear. “Goodnight,” Quinn whispered back.

Rachel took a few steps back and gave a small wave. “Sayonara, sucker,” she joked.

Quinn laughed. “I hate you.”  
\--

The second date was amazing, as was the third, fourth and fifth date.

By the sixth date, Quinn couldn’t believe things were progressing so quickly. It was like they retrieved the easy familiarity and camaraderie of their former relationship without the drama or bullshit adolescent concerns about popularity and constant need for attention.

It was good, _so_ so good.

She had the Rachel she remembered-- that sweet, energetic, enthusiastic girl but without the meanness or dismissiveness Quinn remembered of their last days together. This was the Rachel she remembered falling in love with, but even better because this Rachel was happy with her life and the years away from Lima had not only matured her, but they’d been good for her. Good _to_ her.

And Quinn changed, too. Not dramatically or anything, but Quinn looked back at her high school self with some regret, knowing if she’d truly been as confident as she pretended to be, she wouldn’t have been such a _bitch_. She’d gone out of her way to put people down, to criticize and poke at talented people like Rachel because it’d made her feel better about herself. She knew now that had been truly pathetic, like when she just had to leave cruel comments on Rachel’s MySpace videos. If she’d been truly confident in her own self-worth, she would have kept the negativity to herself. Or like with Jacob Ben Israel-- the kid was a troll and a sexual predator, no doubt about it. But she’d gone out of her way to make ‘Jewfro’ stick as a nickname because she could see he really was a pretty talented writer and journalist despite his repulsive need to express his sexual ecstasy at Rachel’s proximity. To this day, if Rachel ever mysteriously disappeared, Jacob’s door would be the first Quinn would beat down. But that didn’t mean Quinn had to go out of her way to be cruel to him.

She wasn’t like that anymore and she looked back at her former self with a measure of shame and regret. Maybe if she’d just spent some more time minding her own business or at least not publicly trying to expose people’s vulnerabilities and insecurities, she could have salvaged her relationship with Rachel or _any_ of her high school friends. It was not surprising to her that she lost touch with all of her former high school ‘friends’ by the second year of college-- she didn’t bother putting any effort into it because people always put the effort with _her_. But being so far away, no one put any effort into keeping in touch with her either and she realized it was probably because no one _really_ liked her.

She’d been feared and respected, but she doubted anyone really liked her. In high school, Rachel was universally mocked and denigrated and the only thing people feared was being on the receiving end of one of her civil rights diatribes which was typically reserved for school staff. Her talent as a singer, despite being mocked relentlessly was universally recognized as a _truth_ and really, as much as people bullied and tormented Rachel, Quinn couldn’t remember Rachel ever giving anyone much of a genuine reason to hate her. On the other hand, Quinn could think of a myriad of valid reasons why people would hate her.

Quinn didn’t care so much about other people anymore. She was too busy and too involved with her own life to bother putting other people down or to bother with petty criticisms. Sure, if someone was incompetent at work, she was quick to point that out if _she_ had to pick up the slack. But she wasn’t going to call people out or rat them out to get on top, either, like she did with Santana in high school. She still cared about what people thought of her-- but in a different way. She didn’t care about curious stares or any of that crap-- but she did care if her friends thought she was a good friend or not. And the field of people whose opinions mattered to her had narrowed significantly. It used to be that any sideways glance from any person on the street would make her feel like shit and she’d have to make _someone_ feel small to feel better. Now she didn’t care-- the only people’s opinions she really cared about were people who genuinely cared about her and while she didn’t have an abundance of those people, she had enough to be happy.

It just made things so much better the second time around. She was better and Rachel was better and so, consequently, _they_ were better.

“It’s kind of like with fruit or certain types of alcohol,” Rachel commented, one day when they were curled up on Rachel’s couch. Rachel laced their fingers together.

“What the hell are you talking about?”Quinn asked, amused. She had no idea where Rachel was going with it.

Rachel smiled. “Well, as you know with fruit and certain types of alcohol, if it is consumed too early, it’s inedible-- too bitter or something. But if you wait a while until it’s just right…” Rachel trailed off and ran her fingers up Quinn’s bare arm. “Have you ever bitten into some really ripe peach or apple or strawberry or--”

“Are we naming fruits? Because we could be here all night. I’ll help you. Mandarin oranges, kumquats, tangelos… ”

Rachel gently swatted at Quinn’s shoulder. “And being here all night would be that bad?”

Quinn smiled. “No,” she said softly.

“In any case, have you ever bitten into some ripe, but not overripe fruit? And just have the juices _explode_ in your mouth and it just runs down your chin and all over you? It’s messy, to be certain, but it’s _delicious_ and so worth it. Do you know what I mean?” Rachel was practically purring.

Quinn swallowed hard. They hadn’t slept together this time around yet, because they were taking things slowly, but she was, quite frankly, _really_ horny, and so everything sounded _filthy_ and suggestive to her. But everything that just came out of Rachel’s mouth seemed particularly pointed. “I know what you mean,” she said, because she couldn’t think of anything else to say. Her voice came out a little strangled.

“We should go apple picking one day,” Rachel commented idly, her tone normal again. “One can experience something like that whilst apple picking, I suppose because one is just so close to the produce.”

Sometimes, Quinn hated Rachel for being so _weird_. But only briefly.

“Yeah,” Quinn said, pulling Rachel’s hand to her lips and kissing each of Rachel’s knuckles. “We should.”

Rachel cupped Quinn’s cheek with her free hand. “I think we did this just in the nick of time,” she murmured.

Quinn pressed a kiss to the center of Rachel’s palm. “You mean this? Kissing? We always have time for kissing.” She kissed the back of Rachel’s hand. “See?”

“I mean us,” Rachel said softly. “Did you know that when wine gets too old, sometimes microbes turn it into vinegar?”

Quinn bit her lower lip. “I did not know that,” she said, trying not to laugh. “Thank you for telling me. I’m glad I know this because now I know we could kick ass if we paired up to play Trivial Pursuit.”

Rachel smiled crookedly. “The wine turns into vinegar and then it’s inedible. I merely meant I’m glad we didn’t miss our chance. Sometimes I have to use metaphors to convey how I’m feeling but apparently you need me to spell it out, which is all right, I suppose.”

Quinn chuckled.”Sorry, it’s just that you throw a lot of information my way.”

Rachel laughed self-deprecatingly. “It can be hard to know what’s important,” she admitted.

“I’m glad we didn’t miss our chance, too.” Quinn said softly.

\--

They got to know each other again and it was everything Quinn wanted it to be. But it was just happening so quickly. Rachel hadn’t commented on it though and Quinn didn’t want to break the spell. But it was all just happening so quickly and while Quinn was utterly enamored with Rachel, it was hard to tell if she was so enamored simply because Rachel was so good to her and seemed so enchanted by her or if it was all real. Quinn was a little uneasy by how quickly things were proceeding, because it was _really_ intense but she also tried not to worry about it because she felt the whole point of dating someone was to distinguish if the feelings were real or just a side effect of new romance.

“Do you ever resent your father for making you change your name?” Quinn asked softly, one day, several months into their courtship. She never had a chance to talk to Rachel about it in high school, because Rachel had been too angry to talk about it. But she’d always wondered because she remembered Rachel practicing her autograph while they were together since Rachel believed she’d need one signature for all her official documents like personal checks and another signature solely for autographs. ‘I refuse to give identity thieves ammunition, Quinn,’ Rachel had sniffed superciliously.

“I’ve gotten used to it,” Rachel said slowly. “But I resented them both a lot for it. They were the ones who made their relationship fall apart, I didn’t see why I had to be the one punished for it. I _liked_ being Rachel Berry. But I’m used to signing my name Rachel Linton now.”

“Do you like it though?” Quinn pressed.

Rachel smiled crookedly. “If you’re asking if I had some romantic desire for my parents to have stayed together so I could have remained Rachel Berry…” she paused. “Yes,” she admitted. “I did. I didn’t want to be Rachel Linton, but I’m still the same person regardless. I’ve thought about changing my name back, or hyphenating it. But I don’t want to hurt either of my fathers’ feelings and I don’t want to start another battle between them, which exactly what would happen if I tried changing my name now. I’d rather just let sleeping dogs lie. After all, no one _really_ gets to choose their name, right?”

“How do you feel about Fabray?” Quinn asked quietly, before she could stop herself.

“It’s a very sound Teutonic surname, sweetheart. It has two syllables. I feel two syllable surnames are ideal.”

Quinn rolled her eyes, because Good Lord, Rachel just did _not_ understand subtlety which was hardly surprising, but _still_. “How would you feel about being Rachel Fabray one day?” She wished she hadn’t asked once she said it, but it just slipped out.

She was putting too much on the line and Quinn knew it, but she couldn’t help it. She wasn’t even thinking about marriage, let alone marriage to Rachel whom she was just barely getting to know again. But for some reason she asked it. She wanted Rachel to point out it was way too early to start talking about that sort of thing, because it really was and Quinn wanted to kick herself in the ass for saying it. But instead of Rachel telling her it was too early…

Rachel gave her a lopsided smile. “I would like that _very_ much. One day.”

Quinn smiled back. “One day,” she agreed. But she just wasn’t sure of anything. She wasn’t even sure if she genuinely wanted the ‘one day’ or if she just wanted ‘for now.’

\--

It was dizzying, this new thing with Rachel. Things with Rachel were happening so quickly and while it was dizzying in an exhilarating way, it was also dizzying in a way that was…scary.

Quinn wasn’t sure what to describe it as, because though she’d known Rachel for a very long time, it felt too soon to describe this thing as ‘love.’ They weren’t even officially exclusive yet. But Quinn couldn’t deny the feeling of exaltation and exultation whenever she was with Rachel. And though Quinn warned herself not to get too attached or too excited or _whatever_ , she couldn’t help it, especially after about a month in when she realized Rachel was hardcore _wooing_ her in the traditional sense with flowers sent to her office and pre-date chocolates and sweet little notes. Rachel was courting her and Quinn was completely helpless to resist. Quinn wasn’t _exactly_ sure how she felt about Rachel, but she knew she found everything with Rachel to be _so_ exciting. And well, half the thrill was in how Rachel wore her heart on her sleeve.

“It’s the honeymoon period,” her coworker, Monique, warned her, about three months in.

She and Monique weren’t super close or anything. But they were close enough Quinn talked to her about dating an actress whom she used to date back in high school. Quinn didn’t tell Monique a lot of details, and in fact, since Monique was kind of gossipy, Quinn was always careful not to identify Rachel by name because Rachel’s career was still budding and there was still a lot of homophobia in Rachel’s chosen profession.

“Honeymoon period? I’ve known her since we were three! We went to the same daycare. How the hell can I have honeymoon period with someone I’ve known that long? And we’ve already dated!”

“Mark my words, honeymoon period,” Monique said sagely. “In another couple weeks or months, her flakey actress side will come out or--”

“She is _not_ flakey.”

“Then her veganism will annoy you. Because vegans are goddamn annoying. Tofurkey, my ass. I know they miss bacon, or else why would they have fake bacon?”

“She doesn’t make a big deal out of it. It hasn’t been a problem.”

“Then her shortness will bother you. Short people are annoying. They’re always asking you to reach stuff for them. Or their pants are too long for them and you just want to tell them to get a good tailor or something.”

“How do _you_ know she’s short?”

“When you talk about her, you always mention she’s short.”

“Not everyone is gigantour like you, Jolly Green Giant,” Quinn said crankily.

“I’m just saying,” Monique placated. “And I’m just pointing out that you’re going through the honeymoon phase. So be careful, okay?”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “Stop raining on my parade,” she said, because she and Rachel had talked about Sectionals from their sophomore year the night before and Quinn had a vivid memory of Rachel singing that song. Rachel had been so flawless, even Quinn couldn’t think of one critique that night.

“Someone’s gotta be the rain cloud,” Monique said in a sing-song. “Might as well be me, I’m a goddamn cute rain cloud.”

\--

The first rainstorm came out of nowhere. Or at least, it seemed to.

Looking back on it, Quinn knew the clouds had been looming, she just ignored them until she couldn’t. They’d been dating for nearly five months by then-- enough to spend New Years’ Eve, New Years’ Day, Valentine’s Day, and St. Patrick’s Day. They were planning her birthday in April and discussing what to do when they broke up. The relationship was still new enough that she measured their time together in holidays, but it still stung they broke up around her birthday.

It seemed like any other day, until Rachel canceled a dinner date, citing a debilitating cold. She sounded distracted, but her voice was hoarse and Quinn was worried enough that instead of just letting it go, she went to Rachel’s apartment. She’d gone unannounced and uninvited to Rachel’s apartment on manyl occasions, and it was never a big deal.

Rachel’s roommate, Crystal, let her in.

The apartment was _wrecked_.

“What the hell happened?”

“Motherfucking Ryan is _insane_ ,” Crystal griped. “This is it. If she’s going let that dude keep coming over here, I’m _moving_ the fuck out of here.”

Rachel emerged from her bathroom with more cleaning supplies. She did not look sick at all. “I got more--oh! Hi, baby,” she greeted Quinn, her eyes wide and innocent. “You should have called! It’s the polite thing to do,” she scolded. “What if we weren’t home,” Rachel said, starting to babble to distract Quinn from the greater issue.

Quinn put her hand up, cutting Rachel off. “Can I talk to you?” Quinn gritted out.

Rachel set the cleaning supplies down and nodded hesitantly.

\--

Rachel was, in many ways, ideal. She was beautiful and intelligent. But more than that, Rachel was warm, bubbly and sincere-- she was just enjoyable to be around.

And then in many other ways, Rachel was _horrifying_ to date. The number one character trait in Rachel that drove Quinn crazy was Rachel’s stubbornness. Whether it was her insistence she can _absolutely_ reach that bowl waaaay up on the top shelf or Quinn try the disgusting gluten-free egg substitute or her mysterious allegiance to a clearly unstable ex-boyfriend, Rachel could be a stubborn asshole and when she was, Quinn was tempted to throttle her.

The ex-boyfriend was their biggest point of contention even though Quinn believed Rachel when the brunette insisted she was only friends with Ryan. She trusted Rachel implicitly-- at least, what Rachel said. But she did _not_ trust Rachel’s judgment, especially when it came to people, because it was often _crap_. For someone who was bullied so relentlessly in high school, Rachel was far too trusting, a trait Quinn definitely did not share ever since Noah Puckerman told her to “trust him” and she ended up with ginormously heavy breasts, feet that were half a size larger (and stayed that way!) and a craving for bacon that never quite went away.

There were so many arguments about Ryan and they usually went the same way

“If you would just meet Ryan, you’d see what a good guy he is,” Rachel pleaded.

“Forget it. I’m _not_ making nice with anyone who hit you.” Quinn bit her tongue from pointing out Rachel was just lucky Quinn wasn’t bitching about the relationship anymore.

“You’d like him,” Rachel entreated.

“ _No_. I won’t.”

But Rachel continuously and strenuously refused to cut him loose.

“He’s my friend, he needs me. He has mental health issues, he needs _treatment_ , not abandonment. I don’t _abandon_ my friends!”

Quinn let it go because she spent a lot of time with Rachel, just the two of them anyway. And well, Rachel seemed happy and nothing had happened with this Ryan guy, so Quinn thought maybe it was just something she would have to learn to begrudgingly live with.

But here she was at Rachel’s destroyed apartment. And hell _no_ , she was not going to just live with it anymore. Rachel had lied to her about being sick to cover up the fact Ryan had evidently ‘gone crazy’ and destroyed the apartment. An apartment he did not live in. That clearly signaled trouble

Rachel looked nervous. “Hi, baby!” she said brightly, sweetly when they were in her room.

This is what Rachel did to smooth things over any time things got a little tense between them. She said ‘baby’ in that voice, in that manner, looking _that_ way and it had always worked before from that very first time, just a few weeks into dating again when Rachel accidentally called her baby.

But it did not work now because Quinn was worried and angry.

“What happened?”

Rachel smiled brightly. “Could you be more specific?”

“Rachel.”

Quinn was not amused by this deliberate show of obtuseness.

“Yes, Quinn?”

Rachel was still way too innocent.

“Rachel!”

“Quinn?”

“Rachel,” Quinn said lowly. “What happened to your apartment?”

Rachel flushed guiltily. “Quinn,” she said softly. “Please don’t overreact. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“What happened?”

“He just has mental health issues, Quinn. But he’s a _wonderful_ friend. He didn’t mean to do it! I _know_ he’s sorry! He just lost his temper, but if you knew him like I knew him, then you’d know--”

Quinn cut her off. “What did he do?”

“Quinn, I don’t think that’s important. I--”

“Did he hurt you?” Quinn asked quietly, wondering why she didn’t ask earlier but maybe it was because Rachel clearly looked okay.

“Of course not,” Rachel said softly. “He’s not like that.”

“Rach. Baby,” Quinn said softly. “Come on. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened with him. Don’t you think that’s enough to show you that it’s time you walked away?”

Rachel’s face hardened. “I don’t walk away from my friends, Quinn.”

“Rachel, look at what he did to your apartment! He destroyed it!”

Rachel crossed her arms. “And how many of my outfits have you destroyed with a Slushie between middle school and high school, Quinn?”

Quinn flushed. “That’s not the same.”

“Really?” Rachel asked. “Really? It’s not?”

“No!”

“Well, to be honest, Quinn. I don’t see how there’s a difference between you throwing Slushies in my face and insulting me at every opportunity, some of which occurred while we were dating the first time and Ryan destroying a few items of my furniture,” Rachel said stubbornly.

“A few items of your furniture?! Your apartment is destroyed!”

“It’s just stuff! At least I know Ryan doesn’t have complete control of his mental faculties when he gets like that! You knew exactly where you were doing! So, really, which is worse?!”

“Rachel,” Quinn said softly, though all the throwbacks to their childhood really stung. “Baby, please. What needs to happen next? Does he actually need to hurt you again?”

“He’s never hurt me!”

“He slapped you! He gave you a black eye and choked you on Christmas fucking Eve! What the hell do you want? Do you want him to kill you next time?!”

“He’s my friend,” Rachel said meekly. “I can’t abandon him. He’s my friend. He’s helped me through some of the worst times in my life. If I needed him, he wouldn’t abandon _me_. How can you possibly ask me to walk away from him? He’s my _friend_!”

“He’s unstable, sweetheart,” Quinn whispered. “Please just walk away. Something worse could happen next time. Walk away, baby. You won’t be abandoning him, you’ll be keeping yourself safe. You _deserve_ to be safe. Friends don’t treat people like this.”

“He _is_ my friend!”

“Rachel,” Quinn entreated, reaching out to Rachel. “Baby, you know I love how loyal you are .I think it’s amazing. You’re amazing. But I’m worried about you. He’s unstable, baby. And I… I…can’t let you keep doing this, sweetheart. Please. Walk away.”

Rachel trembled. “He’s my friend,” she whispered. “How can you ask me to do this?”

‘Because I love you,’ Quinn thought. But it just couldn’t come out. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” Quinn said softly.

“You’re hurting me _now_. How can you ask me to walk away from my friend?”

“Because I want to make sure you don’t get hurt. Walk away, Rachel.”

“Quinn…”

Quinn swallowed hard. “It’s either him or me, Rachel.”

Rachel’s throat worked visibly. “You don’t mean that,” she said softly.

“Yes, I do,” Quinn said. She needed Rachel away from this man or else she couldn’t be around for the inevitable next blow-up.

Rachel swallowed hard. “I love you,” she said fervently. “Doesn’t that mean _anything_ to you?”

“Of course it does,” Quinn said. She wanted to say it back, but she couldn’t. “So it should be easy for you. Walk away from him. Stop being his friend. Choose _me_.”

“Don’t ask me to do that,” Rachel pleaded. “He’s my friend. Would _you_ walk away from a friend who needed you?”

“Yeah, I would.”

Rachel shook her head. “You wouldn’t,” she said firmly. “I _know_ you. I’ve gotten to know you again. I _know_ you wouldn’t just walk away from someone who needed you. You wouldn’t do that! That’s not in you. You’re the kind of person who is in things for the long haul. I know what kind of person you are. I see the way you treat your mom, Beth, your friends. You can’t convince me you’d walk away from someone you cared about if they needed you. You aren’t like that. You can’t be.”

Quinn wished she were brave enough to point out that she was emphatically not the noble ship captain type to go down with his ship. She was the rat that scurried from the doomed ship while it was still docked. It was absolutely in her to discard a relationship when she sensed it was headed for the kind of trouble that Ryan presented. She wished she were brave enough to tell Rachel that Rachel was clearly seeing her as a better person than she actually was.

“Rachel, I’m telling you to make a choice.”

“Quinn, I know you understand my position on this. I _know_ you do. If he were your friend, I know you wouldn’t just leave him behind! I know you aren’t like that! Please--”

“If you asked me to, I would,” Quinn cut off.

“I’d never ask you that,” Rachel said softly. “Please,” she begged. “I love you. I’d do anything you’d ask me to do, but not _that_. Do you want me to quit the play? You don’t like that I take off my clothes for so much of it. Can’t we compromise? I can give you something else you want. Do you just want me to prove myself? I _swear_ , I’m committed. Let me prove it in some other way. What else do you want? I’ll do anything else.”

“Walk away from him, Rachel,” Quinn said softly. “Please. I just want you to be okay.”

Rachel shook her head. “Don’t you understand? He’s my friend! He’s been good to me! He wouldn’t walk away from me if I needed him! I can’t do this!” She was crying now. “Ask me for something else! I’ll give it to you! What else do you want?!”

“Walk away, Rachel,” Quinn repeated. She reached for Rachel’s hand. “Please. Walk away or…”

Rachel gripped Quinn’s hand tightly. “You don’t mean it,” she said softly. “You aren’t giving me an ultimatum.”

Quinn pulled her hand away and cupped Rachel’s face, gazing deeply into her eyes. “Yes, I do,” she said. “I mean it. I already said it. I know you heard it. It’s either him or me, Rachel. But that choice is yours.”

Rachel flinched and pulled her head back and took a few steps back. “Do you really? You really mean it?”

“Yes,” Quinn breathed  
  
“You _really_ mean it?” Rachel pressed.

“ _Yes_.”

“He needs me more than you,” Rachel said softly. “He doesn’t have _anyone_. You have your mom. Your sister. Shelby. Beth. Your friends.”

“Rachel. Rachel, no. Don’t--”

“He needs me more than you.”

“Rach--”

“I choose him, Quinn,” Rachel said quietly. “He needs me more. I’m afraid something will happen to him. I’m worried about _him_. He’s been my friend since I moved here and I can’t drop him when he needs me. We’ve only been friends again for a few months. And history shows you and I are not a wise match. If you’re going to make me choose, I….I choose him.”

Quinn stared at Rachel for a long moment and then turned and walked away.

“Did you ever love me?” Rachel called out, sadly. “I love you. I think this is something we can work through, if you’d let us.”

Quinn did not answer as she left the room. She did not think this was something she could work through and unlike Rachel’s obstinacy about being tall enough to reach a shelf or the precise date the Treaty of Versailles was signed, Quinn did not think this was something they would work through. Rachel made her choice and it wasn’t her. That was all Quinn needed to know.

Why couldn’t anyone just choose _her_? Her mother chose her father over her, Finn and Puck _both_ chose Rachel over her, other boyfriends had chosen other girls over her and now Rachel had chosen someone else, too. Why was she the one everyone wanted until they had her, and then she was the one they always chose to walk away from? _Why_?


	4. Chapter 4

Rachel grew up without a mother and with two fathers who were loving, but frequently vied for her attention and allegiance against the other parent. She never had many friends growing up and she chose to leave Lima behind entirely because Lima had nothing but negative connotations for her. When she left Lima at the age of 17 for New York, she vowed never to return except for brief visits and to never speak to anyone she knew from there again-- she wanted a fresh start. But somehow Shelby and Beth and then later on, Quinn drew her back in.

Her life in New York was just so much better than it ever was in Lima. She could be herself and people accepted her and liked her. She had friends. She had people who loved her. She had professors who didn’t roll their eyes when she raised her hand. She had teachers who genuinely wanted to teach her.

Her entire life, she’d always been vulnerable to the whims of others. Beginning when she was little, if her parents’ relationship was good, then _everything_ was good. But when it was rocky-- and it was rocky on-and-off for about half her childhood before they finally called it quits, then her relationship with both of them was rocky and she felt uncomfortable in her own house. She was vulnerable to whatever mood teachers were in that day, because if they felt like it, they would protect her from the taunting and bullying of other students. And if they didn’t feel like it…well, then, she was fucked. She was vulnerable to the whims of other students and whether or not they felt like Slushieing her or insulting her that day. She was vulnerable to the whims of people she fell in love with, to her fathers, to the mother she longed for, to just _everyone_.

Looking back on her time in Lima, her biggest regret was not sticking up for herself more. But back then, she just didn’t have the courage. She’d barely had the strength to fight tears, she didn’t have the strength to fight back, too. She wished she’d fought back earlier instead of using the anger and pain she felt toward her parents to viciously taunt her tormentors, because she knew she’d simply stooped to their level instead of defending herself.

But it was because she didn’t have friends growing up or people who really seemed to care about her, that she now held onto people who’d demonstrated their love for her. Granted Ryan had becoming increasingly volatile with her since she broke up with him, the worst being that Christmas Eve in which he’d held her down and choked her because she’d teased him for getting emotional during their yearly _A Charlie Brown Christmas_ viewing. That night had become particularly explosive and out-of-control because Crystal rushed to defend her and he went after Crystal as well in addition to wrecking the apartment.

If he’d simply been an asshole or something, she would have just cut him loose. But she saw something was wrong with him and when the police came and then called a psychiatric emergency team, she knew it wasn’t all his fault. That he was unwell. She couldn’t just abandon him, especially because over the years, some of his friends had told him to dump her for a variety of reasons ranging from not being pretty enough, not being tall enough, to being too crazy, being too annoying, too loud or too demanding. And each and every time, he’d defended her and chosen her over the other person. That _counted_ for something. When his friends made him choose between her and them, he’d always chosen her.

If she really needed him, she was confident he’d never walk away from her.

So she couldn’t walk away from him. Over the years, his so-called friends abandoned him over skirmishes and petty arguments, but she wouldn’t do the same to him. Over the years, she’d had people walk away from her, people insult her, people who claimed to care about her decline to stand up for her. But not him. Rachel just wanted to be good to the people who were good to her. And the thing was, for whatever reason, she’d convinced herself that it must just be hard to stand by a person, to stick up for them. She convinced herself it must be hard because why else would no one have ever stood up for her? But when it came down to standing by one of her friends, she found that it was actually very easy to stand up for and stand by a person she cared about. And because she found it easy, she determined that other people never stood up for her simply because they didn’t want to and she was not about to abandon a person who actually stuck by her when she needed him. She just was not going to do it.

\--

“I think you’re crazy,” Calvin said bluntly when Rachel met him for a post break-up coffee.

Rachel shrugged. “You’ve told me that since freshman year.”

“Yeah, but now you’re giving me definitive proof, Linton.”

“Shut your pie-hole, Coolidge.”

“That’s not my last name!” he exclaimed, outraged.

Rachel snorted with laughter. “So?”

“I think you’re crazy,” he declared. “You chose that punk over some hot blonde?”

“How do you know Quinn is hot?” Rachel asked irritably. “You never even got a chance to meet her.”

When Rachel thought about it, she wondered why she was so upset about a relationship that was only a few months old. They hadn’t even gotten out of the phase where all they wanted to do was spend time alone together yet, so they certainly never progressed to the meeting-each-others’-friends-because-we’re-reasonably-certain-we-won’t-break-up-and-thus-have-you-hovering-around-post-break-up phase yet.

When she thought about it, the relationship wasn’t serious enough to mourn, and yet she was _so_ upset about it. She didn’t regret the break-up, because Ryan had been her biggest support system for years, whereas Quinn was the source of some of Rachel’s most painful memories. It would have been crazy to choose Quinn over Ryan. But she missed Quinn desperately.

“You showed me her picture. She’s _hot_. I’d bang her like a drum.”

Rachel glared at him murderously. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t get offended. I’d bang you like a drum, too.”

“I know,” Rachel said dryly. “It’s what you said to me the day we met.”

“Yes, and you scolded me which was like jumping into a frozen lake,” Calvin said dryly, he held up his right index finger in a straight line and then made it fall over. “See?”

Rachel chuckled and they shared a grin.

Calvin became serious. “Ryan’s a dick, Linton. Stop being retarded.”

“’Retarded’ is a very offensive word.”

“It’s apt. He’s an asshole and you dumped a girl for him.”

“She dumped me. I practically debased myself begging her to stay with me. And you introduced me to Ryan! He was your friend first.”

“Yeah,” Calvin said. “And the asshole knew I liked you and asked you out first.”

“That’s kind of water under the bridge now, don’t you think?” Rachel asked mildly. “You asked Monique out and you guys are still together.”

Calvin nodded. “That was still no excuse for him asking you out when he knew I wanted to ask you out. But you’re right, we would have murdered each other.”

“I think I would have poisoned you,” Rachel agreed cheerfully.

He smiled. “Rachel,” he said gently. “I love you even though you’re out of your mind. But you are _way_ out of your mind.”

“He needs me, Cal. He’s always been good to me.”

“ _He’s_ crazy. “

“And you think it’s wise just to abandon him?”

“I think at some point you have to cut your losses, Rachel.”

“He needs help.”

“Rachel, I thought you were an actress. Not a therapist.”

“Calvin, he needs support from his friends.”

“You’re basically his only friend now, Rach. I really don’t understand why that doesn’t mean anything to you. It would to any other rational person. ”

“It doesn’t mean anything because I think that reflects more on everyone else than on him,” Rachel said, bristling. There was a time in her life when she had no friends and she still thought that was more a reflection of the community she was living in than her. After all, she hadn’t changed much since high school and she had friends now whom she loved and loved her back.

“Yeah, well, you try keeping him from getting into fights all the time and then getting punched in the face as a show of gratitude,” Calvin snapped. “If I were you, I’d tell Ryan to shove an icicle up his ass and beg the hot chick to take me back.”

“You aren’t me.”

“That’s because _I_ don’t have shit for brains, Linton.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“See? You’re making violent threats. You spend way too much time with him.”

Rachel sighed. Why couldn’t people just understand where she was coming from?

“Shut it, Yamada.”

“Hey,” he said calmly, his voice very serious.

“What?”

“You tell him if he ever hurts you, I’ll punch his stinking heart out.”

She rolled her eyes. “He’d never do anything to hurt me,” she said. She just felt the need to be protective of him. Ryan was always protective of her, after all.

“Well, you tell him anyway. He’s a piece of shit timebomb. I get you’re a grown ass woman and you’ll do whatever you want, but you tell him if he ever hurts you, I’ll kill him.”

She put her hand over his. “He misses you,” Rachel said softly. “I know he does, even if he doesn’t say it. Can’t you give him another chance? He was a good friend to you, wasn’t he? Why would you just give up a good friendship over a bar fight? You know how great he is when he’s…normal.”

He scowled at the mere prospect. “Rachel. Not everyone is willing to turn the other cheek over and _over_ again like you.”

Rachel lowered her eyes. “Okay.”

Calvin was one of her dearest friends and he seemed angry and annoyed she was bringing this subject up, despite the fact that really, he was the one who called her up to lend her an ear after her break-up with Quinn and _he_ was the one who brought up Ryan first. She still believed she was kind of psychic, but that was mostly in terms of predicting future events. She had crappy intuition and was still pretty poor at reading people, but it was hard to ignore his change in tone. She decided to just drop it.

\--

Two months after the break-up, Rachel still thought about Quinn constantly. She tried to dismiss it as a fling and she was glad it ended before it got truly serious. The problem was she’d developed truly serious feelings-- against her better judgment. But she was always a slave to her feelings, even when she wanted to squish them down and suppress them.

When she reflected on it, she knew she let herself get too invested and too attached far too quickly. But she’d just been so _helpless_. Asking Quinn out on a date was an act of impulse, and it wasn’t one she regretted, but she knew even while she was dating Quinn that she was letting herself get carried away-- even though she didn’t feel like Quinn liked her as much as she liked Quinn. She wanted to put on the brakes and make herself slow down-- Quinn seemed more amused by her than anything else, though Quinn was very loving and affectionate. But it was clear to Rachel she was the one more invested and she just kept getting increasingly attached and made it so obvious even though she didn’t want to. She just couldn’t make herself stop.

And then Quinn issued an ultimatum and Rachel knew there was no way Quinn could truly love her if she could issue an ultimatum like that. She felt like such a fool.

\--

Ryan had been a good boyfriend to her, but she had no regrets about breaking up with him. He was still a good friend to her, and she tried not to regret keeping him as a friend, but sometimes she did, simply because she thought of Quinn constantly. She felt guilty for this because she felt friendship should be without regret and unconditional, but sometimes she thought it would have been easier to just walk away from Ryan. But she wouldn’t have been able to do that without feeling guilty. And when she thought about it, Ryan had been her friend for years. She’d _known_ Quinn for years, but those years were spent in enmity, not friendship and the good moments between them only amounted to a few months. How could she have given up a years-long friendship for a months-long relationship? It didn’t make any sense to her, and mathematically, it was completely off. Ryan knew, of course, that she and Quinn had broken up, but he didn’t know why and Rachel had no plans on ever telling him. Why should he be burdened with that? But sometimes she wished he’d understand what she’d given up because she loved him so dearly.

She missed Quinn, but she liked spending time with Ryan because he always indulged whatever she wanted to do, and not even Quinn did that for her. It made the ache of losing Quinn just a little easier to bear when she was hanging out with Ryan who was truly her best friend. He really did try to be everything and everyone to her, even when she gently reminded him he didn’t have to be. That trait in him was one of the reasons she’d accepted the person she was dating couldn’t be everything and everybody to her. It was unreasonable to expect one person to be her lover, her best friend, her partner-in-crime, her shopping buddy, her concert buddy, her musicals buddy, and every other capacity she wanted. But Ryan _tried_ and she loved that about him.

“You’re the woman I’ve always dreamed of,” Ryan murmured. “I just want to make you happy,” he told her when she asked him once why he did things with her like attend musicals and get pedicures he clearly did not want to do.

No one really ever did anything with her or for her simply because she wanted to do it.

Okay, so people thought he was crazy and he wasn’t exactly…all there. But people thought she was crazy and not quite all there, too, and she really wanted people to give her the benefit of the doubt. She knew, of course, that she’d done crappy things to people in her life, and she felt bad and guilty about those things. But for the most part, she genuinely tried to treat others the way she wanted to be treated which is why she chose to stick by Ryan-- one day, she wanted to meet someone who would love her enough to stick with her even when it was the harder choice.

She knew he wanted to get back together-- she knew this not so much in action, because he treated her with all the same respect and sweetness he always did, but because he’d always been very blunt with his words-- “I want you back.”

She appreciated this quality in him-- this bluntness and the lack of metaphors and decorative, expressive language. There was no ardent affection in the content of his words, but she felt it anyway.

“I developed some pictures,” he said. “Do you want to see?”

Now that he was out of school, he photographed mostly as a hobby, though she’d encouraged him to do it professionally from the moment she saw his work years ago. He still used film, being an ardent supporter of analog photography and she’d always found something steady and faithful in that.

“Sure,” she said, because they weren’t doing much of anything except watch old concert footage of The Cure on his TV. She wasn’t enthralled with it or anything, but he liked to do it and since he did things he had no interest in for her sake, she tried to do the same for him. And anyway, she loved The Cure.

“Okay, let me get them,” he said, getting up from the couch to walk to the bookshelf.

They hung out mostly at his apartment now, because not allowing him to come over anymore was the only way she could convince Crystal not to move out and Rachel didn’t want to completely change her life around.

He came back a few moments later and reclaimed his seat on the couch next to her.

She looked through the pictures, which were mostly of her, some of them posed but most of them candid. She had to smile because she thought the way a person photographed another person said a lot about how the photographer felt about his subject.

“You must really like me,” she declared softly, teasing him a little. What she really meant was that the photos were lovely and she felt beautiful in them.

“I love you,” he said simply.

She wished she’d commented on his talent and not on the way he made her feel because once again, she was in over her head.

“We’re just friends,” she said quietly. “Really good friends. That just has to be enough.”

“Okay,” he said softly.

It would be easier to just take him back-- they were practically boyfriend and girlfriend again anyway with all the time she was spending with him since Quinn broke up with her. He didn’t have many friends anymore, he had no family nearby and he wasn’t the kind of person to seek out friendships with his coworkers-- she was kind of all he had, and so when he asked her to hang out, she just did it, even when it meant neglecting her other relationships.

\--

It was a little over two months since the break-up when Rachel saw Quinn again at Beth’s birthday party.

They greeted each other politely, but kept their distance.

Quinn looked so beautiful, Rachel surreptitiously snapped a picture with her camera phone, despite the fact she’d deleted Quinn from her contact list because she’d obsessively scrolled to Quinn’s name and just stared at it in her phonebook. She unfortunately had the number memorized.

It was June and right before school let out for summer break. Rachel was glad to see Beth had _a lot_ of friends. Rachel clearly remembered not having friends at that age, although back then it was primarily because people had a problem with her fathers. People rejecting her because they had a problem with _her_ was still a couple of years away. She’d come to think of Beth as her baby sister, though she did _not_ consider Shelby to be her mother. Rachel was just glad Beth had it easier than she did and she was filled with love for this child. She’d thought about just skipping the party because she wanted to avoid seeing Quinn and her feelings about Shelby remained ambivalent. But she just couldn’t do that to Beth.

Shelby’s presence in her life still brought her pain, and seeing Quinn at the party hurt, but Rachel was glad she had Beth in her life. Beth’s love and adoration seemed unconditional. It was the only unconditional love Rachel had thus far experienced in her life.

\--

She’d slipped away after the cake-cutting because she didn’t eat regular cake, the vegan thing and all. She stepped onto the balcony and squinted against the bright sun and fingered the leaves of one of the plants on the ledge. She could hear the laughter of Beth’s friends in the living room-- she’d recognized many of them from her stint as the reading tutor at Beth’s school. She had to admit, being greeted with shrieks of “MISS RACHEL!” made her regret leaving that job, long after the fact. She just never realized the kids got that attached to her in such a brief time, but then again, a few months in a little kid’s life was an eternity.

She stared out into the city and just observed the bustling life below. It was hot, and so she admired the various states of undress people were walking around in-- women in skimpy shorts and tank tops, women in sun dresses, men in shorts and tank tops (admittedly less attractive than women in similar attire), and men in wife beaters (Rachel had a thing for lean muscled men whose veins in their arms popped out). Rachel loved the storybook romance of cuddling during cold weather and kissing with snow falling around her, and brushing snow out of her partner’s hair, but there was something sultry and sexy about hot weather she could not deny, despite knowing this was really more in theory than in actual practice.

She heard the sliding glass door open and she didn’t bother to turn around. She hoped whoever it was would go away.

“Hi Rachel.”

Rachel shut her eyes and took a deep breath. She released it in a slow, soft puff. “Hi Quinn.” She opened her eyes and turned. She smiled at the blonde. “You look great,” she said sincerely. The relationship ended abruptly, but amicably and while she was hurt, she didn’t think she had a right to harbor any real ill will toward the blonde.

Quinn smiled. “So do you.”

“Thanks,” Rachel said. She needed to get away. She moved toward the door, wishing she wouldn’t have to get so close to Quinn to make her hasty retreat. “It was good to see you, Quinn.”

Quinn put her hand on Rachel’s back. Rachel halted.

“I’ve missed you,” Quinn said softly. “I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed you until I saw you here.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” Rachel said quietly. She was frozen in place.

“Go out with me again,” Quinn murmured. “I’ve missed you.”

Rachel swallowed hard. This was exactly what she wanted to hear, but it just seemed like there would be strings attached. “Ryan and I are still friends,” she said thickly, because she felt like she needed to be upfront about that.

“Go out with me again. I’ve missed you,” Quinn repeated.

It shouldn’t be so easy. It wasn’t even a request. It was more a command and what gave Quinn the right to say that in the first place? Just because Quinn wanted to go out, they went out? It didn’t seem fair. But Rachel just wanted to be with her again, and so she put aside her pride.

“Okay,” Rachel said softly.

Quinn touched her cheek and Rachel couldn’t help but smile.

“I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much,” Quinn said quietly.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

Quinn peered deeply into Rachel’s eyes. Damn those eyes that made her feel things she didn’t want to feel, wasn’t ready to feel and made her want to rush into something she wasn’t prepared for, into someone she wasn’t even sure cared about her that much. Damn those eyes.

“Come back to my place after the party,” Quinn said softly. “Okay?”

“I already have plans,” Rachel said apologetically. She was supposed to have dinner with Ryan. She didn’t want to be the kind of person who bailed on her friend when she got a better offer.

“Come back to my place,” Quinn repeated.

Rachel swallowed hard. She was helpless for this girl. “Okay,” she agreed.

Quinn gave her a wide, slow smile and closed the very small space between them. She cupped Rachel’s face in her hands and pressed their lips together. Rachel shut her eyes and sighed because she’d really wanted this.

\--

Rachel thought maybe it was just a sex thing, because that was the first thing they did when they got back to Quinn’s house.

It wasn’t some movie cliché frenzy where they were all over each other as they entered into Quinn’s apartment. It wasn’t like they were slamming each other into walls, tearing each others’ clothes off and kissing each other so ferociously they were tugging each other’s lips between their teeth and being porno-aggressive. It was much more sedate than that.

They got freaking _shaved ice_ before they went back to Quinn’s apartment once Rachel called Ryan to reschedule their dinner. _Shaved ice_ \-- one of the unsexiest so-called foods known to man with an uncomfortable similarity to Slushies which Rachel still hated. Still, they’d passed a shaved iced shop once they disembarked from the subway and well, it was a hot day. They slurped up their shaved ice and tossed the cups into receptacles before they hit their destination.

They walked into Quinn’s apartment, and once they were inside, Quinn took Rachel by the hand and led her toward the bedroom.

“Is this okay?” Quinn asked before they reached the door.

“Yes,” Rachel breathed, because by then she was sure “go out with me” really translated into ‘have sex with me one more time,’ but she’d missed Quinn desperately and fuck it, she could admit it, especially to herself, she had _needs_. In a moment of insanity, she contemplated asking Ryan if he wanted to have a ‘friends with benefits’ sort of relationship but that type of arrangement with him was fated to be tragic, so she resisted the urge despite the fact she still found him to be attractive and desirable. He sucked up all of her time outside the new play she was in, so she didn’t have time for anyone else and she had a rule about dating costars. She wasn’t a fan of the one nightstand though she’d had three while she was still in college. She was as sexually liberated as the next girl-- she was willing to give into a kink she didn’t share, short of some scat kink. But she just wasn’t someone who could just have sex with someone simply because she wanted it (and God, ten weeks without sex was… _God_ , sometimes she thought she was going to implode). It had to mean something, at least to her, and sex with Quinn, even if it meant nothing to the blonde, meant something to her.

So she followed Quinn into the bedroom and when Quinn dropped to her knees and gently touched the waist of Rachel’s skirt, peering up at the brunette in a silent question of permission. Rachel nodded her assent.

It was all pretty standard from there-- they disrobed and then they were in bed like they had so many times before. They didn’t tear off each others’ clothing like some primetime TV drama-- they undressed slowly, leisurely and eyed one another as they did so, just appreciating one another. They’d undressed and redressed in front of one another enough times to remove self-consciousness from the equation and Rachel was fairly certain this would be the last time they would ever be together like this, so she drank in the sight of Quinn, thankful that everything seemed to be moving very slowly. Quinn was so beautiful-- that Rachel felt her body _ache_ for Quinn to touch her before they were even fully undressed.

When she thought of Quinn, specifically in relationship to sex, adjectives sprang to mind that were commonly associated with food-- rich, sumptuous, intoxicating. It was just everything about Quinn-- from how soft and smooth her skin was, to the soft breaths and cries she released when she begged Rachel _please_ to the luxuriousness of her hair when Rachel clenched it in her hands and pulled on it. But this was funny because Rachel wasn’t really a food person. She kind of thought of eating as a waste of time and wished there were some medically sound way of feeding herself intravenously because she found everything associated with food-- grocery shopping, cooking, snacking and eating to be a laborious waste of time, especially when she could be out in the world doing almost anything else. But for whatever reason, for someone who lacked an interest in food, she tended to think a lot in food metaphors.

There were things about Quinn she’d memorized-- that clean scent of Quinn’s skin she unnecessarily masked with perfumes that did not smell nearly as delicious. Rachel though she detected a remnant of the soap from Quinn’s morning shower. She’d memorized the feel of Quinn’s soft breasts-- larger than hers, but not so large they were distracting. When they were still together, there’d been so many nights she couldn’t wait to get home and have a taste of those perfect breasts in her mouth, her hands squeezing hard enough to make Quinn release a guttural gasp and a plea ‘ _touch me, please touch me_.’ She memorized the way Quinn moaned and clenched when she stuck her hand between Quinn’s legs, and thumbed Quinn’s clit. She’d tell Quinn _you’re so wet_ , almost in wonder, because sometimes it was still hard to believe she could make Quinn whimper, moan and beg that way, and somehow that would always make Quinn release a strangled little groan and Rachel would find herself covered in Quinn. And much of the time, this would embarrass Quinn to the point of blushing, but Rachel loved it and her heart would ache with love alongside the ache between her legs for Quinn. That ache between her legs was just some physiological imperative-- it was something she did not really think all that much of, because anyone with enough sexual savvy could inspire and then satisfy that ache. But that ache she felt in her heart was an entirely different sort of imperative and she wasn’t sure how many times Quinn could make her feel it without satisfying it before it would just break.

\--

The sex was good, and it’d been so long since Rachel had sex that it was embarrassing how little it took to get her begging and screaming. She even found herself, humiliatingly enough, licking her lips to capture every last taste of Quinn possible because she found Quinn _delicious_ and she was certain this was going to be it for them, that this was all Quinn wanted-- one last time. All Rachel wanted to do was savor it, to do anything she could to make it last a little longer short of begging Quinn to let her stay. She just wasn’t going to do that. Ever.

She found herself regretting it a little and she sat up once she caught her breath to make a hasty exit, but Quinn sat up and wrapped her arms around Rachel’s shoulders, Quinn’s hands covering Rachel’s bare breasts and massaging them gently. Quinn kissed Rachel’s neck.

Rachel laughed softly and turned to kiss Quinn full on the mouth. “I have always admired your stamina.”

Quinn laughed and smiled wryly. “That is such an incredibly unsexy compliment. I just thought your breasts could use a little love-- they’re fabulous, you know. And then you had to break the mood to talk about stamina.” She shook her head. “I really don’t mind it as much as I’m pretending to right now,” she admitted with a small smile.

“It may have been an incredibly unsexy compliment, but so factual,” Rachel murmured. “Factual compliments are the best kind.” She gave Quinn a wide smile, because this moment could be sad and mournful with recriminations and accusations about their dead relationship-- she felt bad enough as it was, so she didn’t want it to get worse. But this was easier to handle-- the joking and the groping. She wanted to hold onto this a little longer, because their goodbye would undoubtedly be painful and awkward. Who could blame either of them for wanting to put it off just a little while longer?

Quinn laughed and they laid down again, Rachel straddling Quinn’s hips and kissing a trail from Quinn’s lips down to her breasts and down her stomach. Rachel was sure she knew what Quinn wanted and her hand cupped Quinn between the legs because really, Quinn was being sweet and jokey with her, but the blonde had clearly brought her here for a purpose and Rachel wanted to fulfill it.

Quinn released a strangled little groan. Her fingers threaded into Rachel’s hair, fingernails lightly grazing her scalp. “You’re too far away,” she managed to gasp out.

This puzzled Rachel until Quinn put her hands on Rachel’s arms and pulled up. Rachel got the message and they were face to face again.

“Hi,” Rachel said softly.

“Hi,” Quinn whispered and then she kissed Rachel.

\--

When she woke up, she tried to remember the last thing they did, and all she remembered was kissing for a while and then lying naked in Quinn’s bed, idly catching each other up about any changes in their lives over the past ten weeks-- there wasn’t much except for Rachel’s new play.

Quinn was already awake-- her eyes were closed and she was drowsy and idle, but the blonde was clearly awake.

“I should go,” Rachel said softly, sitting up. She was glad Quinn was awake because she didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye, but she didn’t want to make a production of it. People did this sort of thing all the time. But she was new to it.

“You made the wrong choice,” Quinn said quietly. “I am so mad at you for choosing wrong.”

“I’m a little mad at myself, too,” Rachel said honestly.

Quinn sat up as well and put her hand on Rachel’s shoulder. “He’s trouble, Rachel. Why can’t you see that? I can’t wait around and worry about the next time he loses it. The next time, he might not stop at ruining your apartment. Next time, he might really hurt you. I really care about you, but I can’t put myself through that.”

Rachel shook her head. “He’d never let it get that far. He has problems, but it would never get that bad.

“You’re so dumb,” Quinn whispered.

There was nothing but regret and fondness in Quinn’s voice-- there wasn’t a trace of animosity, but Rachel flinched.

“He’s my friend. I can’t be that selfish. Not to him.”

Quinn sighed. “You can be selfish if you’re looking out for yourself.”

It was jarring to hear, because Ryan once said something very similar to her. She wondered if he would feel the same way knowing he was the stressor.

“I wouldn’t abandon you if you needed me. Not even if everyone else was telling me to leave you” Rachel said quietly. She wasn’t trying to make Quinn feel guilty or anything, it was just a statement of fact.

“I know,” Quinn said softly. She rubbed Rachel’s shoulder. “I _know_ that. Don’t you think I feel like such a bitch to make _this_ be the reason we broke up? But I have a bad feeling about him and I can’t date you and just keep waiting for it to happen. Do you understand?”

Rachel nodded. She did understand, but she also felt if Quinn loved her, even a little bit, then it would be something Quinn would just accept, especially because Rachel was certain nothing bad would happen with Ryan again. And even if it did, how serious could it be when they weren’t even dating anymore? The kind of rage people directed at their friends was very different from the kind of rage people directed at a girlfriend or boyfriend, even an ex. She knew she was safe and she couldn’t fathom why Quinn didn’t just believe her. It was clear Quinn didn’t think she was worth putting up with the drama. She didn’t blame Quinn, but it still hurt.

“I’m going to go,” Rachel said, and she pulled on her discarded top.

“I’m going to ask again,” Quinn said quietly. “Choose. Me or him. Choose. And this time, choose right,” she pleaded softly.

Rachel shut her eyes for a moment before she grabbed her skirt and pulled it on. “Bye, Quinn.”

She left.

\--

Such things were always a bad idea, even if they were enjoyable while doing them. The sex was amazing, of course, the way it always was with Quinn and it definitely sated a physical need she’d been experiencing. But it left her with an ache nothing could satisfy and she missed Quinn even more acutely than before. And, of course, she was reminded as much as she had fallen in love with Quinn, on the scale of love, her love for Quinn was clearly the unrequited kind.  
  
\--

She threw herself into her new play which was slightly less abysmal than the last one. At least she didn’t throw herself into a fucking lake. At least she didn’t die or sing ridiculous solos. Granted her new play was a lamentable romantic comedy which had zero chance of ever making it onto Broadway, but she was doing what she loved even if she didn’t exactly love the material.

People seemed to think she wanted an easy break-- but who didn’t? If a person was truly honest with him or herself, he or she could admit, they wanted an easy break. But she didn’t think she was entitled to one or anything, and so she was perfectly willing to pay her dues-- people don’t often go from graduating from NYU to winning the Tony, after all. If she had to participate in a few abysmal plays, then what the hell, why not.

\--


	5. Chapter 5

\--

She’d been out of school for a year, so she’d sort of lost track about the back-to-school rush until Shelby called her up and asked if it was okay to put her name down on Beth’s emergency card for school.

Rachel had to think about it for a moment because while it was more a matter of formality, there was a potential for being called out to the school in an emergency and she wasn’t sure she wanted the responsibility.

But the kid in question was _Beth_ and Rachel had come to adore the kid and genuinely consider her a little sister. She didn’t grow up with siblings, and frankly, she never wanted to. It was hard enough to get attention from her fathers, she didn’t want to have to _compete_ with some younger, cuter sibling. She had older siblings from her father’s first marriage, but their mother taught them to scratch her eyes out if they ever came in contact. She had younger siblings from both her fathers’ current relationships, but she hadn’t even met them and had yet to be invited to do so. Daddy went back to his former wife and had more children and Dad moved on to another partner and had new children and neither of those partners wanted her around as a reminder of her fathers’ old life.

So she never had siblings, even if she had them biologically, but she had Beth and she thought of Beth has her baby sister and she felt her life was better with Beth in it. So when asked to do something as paltry as agree to be a contact on Beth’s emergency card…

“Of course,” Rachel answered.

“Great!” Shelby exclaimed, and Rachel could hear the grin in Shelby’s voice. “Quinn said ‘yes,’ too.”

Rachel suppressed a sigh. She didn’t understand how such a short-term relationship could make her ache so much. She’d dated Ryan for _years_ and in the aftermath of its end, she’d shed many tears, consumed lots of alcohol and lost ten sadness related pounds. But she didn’t ache like this. What was _wrong_ with her?

\--

Life went on, the way it always did and though Rachel continued to miss Quinn, it wasn’t as though her life revolved around loss. She did not stay in bed, eating fattening foods and watching sad movies because she needed a good cry. Nor did she do what she usually did when she was sad and missed someone which was to consume vast quantities of alcohol but no food at all. She did not stare for hours at pictures of Quinn and wonder ‘why?’ She just went on with her life, complete with consuming a sufficient amount of calories per day and getting an adequate amount of sleep per night. Every once in a while a glimpse of some blonde of the right age and physique would make Rachel pause, stare and think of Quinn again, but mostly, she went on with her life as best as she could. She’d wonder what Quinn was up to, and then get back to living hers.

She’d fallen in love with Quinn far too easily and she hoped to fall out of love just as easily. It had to happen any day now.

\--

She kept on with the play, and once again, it had surprisingly robust ticket sales for something so atrocious. But eventually, it lost funding.

But something amazing happened-- she was _discovered_ in the Hollywood cliché way.

\--

Quinn Fabray was mercifully forgotten in the flood of elation Rachel felt for being on _Broadway_ and the wave of positive reviews when the show finally debuted after months of rehearsals.

Finally, the adulation she’d deserved from childhood and the accomplishment and fulfillment of a long held, long cherished dream

There were all kinds of clichés about getting what you want, but then having something missing, something integral from your life and being unhappy because of it. Or being careful of what you wished for.

Rachel thought it was horseshit. She was single, but she wasn’t woeful (anymore) about it. She was on Broadway and was getting very close to touching and achieving the stardom she’d dreamed of-- what was there to be unhappy about?

“I’m so proud of you,” her daddy told her. “You were always my little star.”

“I knew you could do it,” her dad told her. “You were always special. I knew it the day I put you in the Little Miss Lima pageant when you were six months old.”

Her parents were proud of her, which was…well, who didn’t want her parents to be proud? It was wonderful to finally make her parents proud, especially because she never felt like she gave them much to be proud of before. They never said anything to make her feel that way, but she’d always suspected they were ashamed of her and wished she were different. It was gratifying to finally do something they could unequivocally take pride in.

Her roommate put up a banner in an apartment (CONGRATULATIONS, RACHEL!) and refused to take it down and all of her friends had bought her either a congratulatory present, drink or meal. Some of them had purchased all three. More than once. To ask or want more seemed to be daring God. After all, who could ask for more than proud parents and good friends who did not begrudge her success?

But it was Ryan who made her feel best.

“Well, of course,” he said simply when she first told him the news of being approached to audition for an actual Broadway play. “We both knew you’d make it. Why are you so surprised?”

Rachel shrugged and gave him a small smile. “People I went to high school with would undoubtedly be surprised,” she said wryly. “They all thought I was arrogant and annoying because I wanted things so badly.”

“It’s only hubris when you fail, babe. When you succeed, it’s ambition and let’s face it, you had ambition before you were potty trained. Besides, what the fuck do high school kids know?”

She laughed again. “Even some of my teachers would be surprised, like the guy who ran glee.”

“If the guy who ran your glee club had any real talent, he’d be on Broadway, too. He was just jealous.”

“I was kind of annoying in high school,” Rachel admitted. She looked back on herself and sometimes cringed at her laser-focus. She was still the kind of person to miss the forest for the trees, but she tried not to make it as obvious anymore.

“Just ambitious and misunderstood, Rach. Besides, are any of _those_ people on Broadway? You should send an email to the alumni association of your high school and tell them to print a message from you in the next alumni newsletter.”

“I’m not sure McKinley even has an alumni newsletter, but what would this message read?”

“’Suck it,’ of course,” he said blankly. “Maybe even ‘suck it, bitches.’”

She had to laugh, but the thing was, he was the _only_ person, herself included, who was completely _not_ surprised by her success. And sure, it wasn’t major Tony-award winning success, but she felt a little closer to it.

And she knew in choosing him, she’d made the right choice because she was very certain of his love for her while she was never quite sure what Quinn felt for her.

\--

She _thought_ she made the right choice until one December afternoon when she had the day off and she received a call from Beth’s school.

Beth vomited in class and was in the nurse’s office. Shelby was in class and had her phone on silent, probably, the babysitter was visiting her family in Michigan, and so there was no one else. The school had been unable to reach Quinn as well.

Rachel didn’t think it was a big deal. Sure, she had plans with Ryan, because it was one of those rare days they both had time off from work-- she wouldn’t have a show for another two days. But she was sure he’d understand. She called him and it went to voicemail, so she left a message and then texted him just to be sure. When she left her apartment, it was for the purpose of picking up her little sister.

She checked Beth out of school, and though Beth was getting kind of big-- far too big for Rachel to comfortably carry, she picked up Beth and cuddled Beth close to her chest. Beth was in the third grade and very proud of being a big girl, but apparently even big girls liked to be cuddled and cosseted when they were feeling unwell.

Rachel hailed a cab for the ride back to her apartment. Beth cuddled into her and sniffled miserably.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Rachel soothed. “I’ll make you some tea and soup when you come back to my apartment, okay?”

“Okay,” Beth muttered listlessly.

“Then we’ll watch some movies and it’ll just be me and you until your Mom comes, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And Crystal’s home, so I know she’ll want to see you.”

Beth smiled. “Okay.”

They reached her apartment and Rachel tipped the guy extra for keeping any sarcastic comments about vomitty kids to himself. She didn’t want Beth to feel worse than she already did.

She was still holding Beth when she got out of the elevator to her floor.

“Rachel.”

It was the way he said it-- angry and spiteful. Rachel swallowed hard when she came face-to-face with Ryan and he glared balefully at her.

“Thanks for standing me up, like, twenty minutes before you were supposed to meet me,” he snarled.

She’d bailed on him a few times before-- it wasn’t a regular thing because it wasn’t in her nature, but she had no qualms about rescheduling with him because he always seemed okay with it. She had friends who always brought it up any time she had to cancel at the last minute-- like she did it on purpose or something. But Ryan was very forgiving about that sort of thing.

But not today, apparently. He was going to explode. She could sense it coming from experience.

“You’re a fucking cunt,” he snapped at her before she even she even set Beth on the ground.

She tried not to react despite the fact that him calling her a name like that was shocking to her. He was not artful in his speech, but he could be counted on to be respectful. She knew he was just angry and didn’t mean it, but it still stung. She did her best not to show any reaction because she didn’t want Beth to be scared, but she wanted Beth safe as quickly as possible. She set Beth down, even as the child weakly protested, gave Beth her key, and pointed her to the door. Crystal was home, so Rachel knew Beth would be okay.  
  
Rachel knew Beth was safely in the apartment when she heard the door close.

“Ryan,” she said, trying to placate him. She actually wanted to scream at him and demand, ‘how could you do this in front of my little sister!’ but she knew it would only make him angrier and she just wanted to calm him down-- despite the fact that when he got into these rages, nothing seemed to calm him down. But she had to try because she had Beth in her apartment and it was only a few feet away. “I’m sorry. I would not have abandoned our plans unless it was urgent. Beth--”

He grabbed her by the upper arms and he slammed her so hard into the wall, she dropped her purse.

“I don’t give a shit!” he screamed in her voice, so close she could feel the heat of his rage from his breath. “What is the matter with you? You’re always going on about responsibility and you just flake out on me?!”

“Ryan,” she implored. “Be reasonable. Beth was sick. She needed to--”

“Shut up,” he spat out. “ _I’m_ talking. I always let you talk. For once, just shut the fuck up and let me talk.”

“Ry--”

“Shut up!”

His fist snaked out and caught her on the right cheek. She felt like such a weakling, but she couldn’t help it-- she let out a sob.

He slammed her into the wall again and then again. She managed to get away from him and she tried to flee right before he grabbed her by the arms again. “I’m still talking to you, Rachel!”

She didn’t know what to do. She needed to get away from him until he calmed down, but she did not want to risk running into her apartment and having him follow her-- Beth and Crystal were in there. And while she accepted the repercussions of her choices, she did not want to foist those repercussions on them.

He was still screaming and cursing at her-- not really calling her names anymore, but just screaming about her lack of consideration and cursing her irresponsibility. He slammed her into the wall a few more times, but he didn’t hit her again. Her had her pinned against the wall and repeatedly slammed his fists into the wall of space right next to her ears which Rachel thought was infinitely preferable to slamming her into it or punching her. But it was still frightening. She could hear high-pitched crying and pleading, and she hoped to God that it wasn’t Beth.

And then the door to her apartment opened up and Crystal stood there, holding her cell phone and a baseball bat.

“The cops are on their way,” she said, looking at Ryan. “You should get gone. I’m pretty good with this asshole, so get _gone_!”

“Crystal,” Rachel gasped. “Close the door and lock it! Beth is in there!”

“Rachel, get in here.”

“Crys--”

“Get in the fucking house, dumb ass!” Crystal shrieked.

Rachel did not need to be told again. She ducked under right arm, grabbed her bag and ran. He cursed at her, grabbed her by the hair to impede her retreat, but she turned and kicked him as hard as she could in the groin and ran into the apartment to take advantage of his temporary incapacitation. The door slammed and she locked it just as he was trying to force it open.

Thank God.

“Jesus Christ,” Crystal breathed. “What does he have to do next time? Kill you? We just watched ‘Mommy May I Sleep with Danger’ on Lifetime, like last month!”

“Shut up,” Rachel warned. She realized she was crying and the person she heard screaming and begging had been her, she’d just detached herself from the experience. She looked around for Beth. “Beth! Sweetheart?” Her heart sank when she caught sight of Beth curled up under the kitchen table, sobbing. Rachel crawled under there next to Beth and pulled her close. She covered Beth’s ears with her hands to drown out the sounds of Ryan cursing and pounding on the front door. “I’m so sorry,” Rachel whispered. “I’m so so sorry. I’m sorry, Beth. It’s okay, sweetheart. Nothing bad is going to happen to you while I’m here. Don’t be scared, sweetheart. It’s okay. Can you sing a song for me, angel?”

She wanted to distract Beth, but Beth was sobbing too hard to even try.

He was still pounding on the door when the police came.

She wanted to refuse medical treatment, because really, all she had a bruised cheek, a bloody nose and a headache-- she’d done worse to herself the first time she got really drunk and fell face down in a stairwell. But she consented once Beth’s eyes, huge and hazel, got watery all over again.

“What if something is wrong and you _die_?” Beth sobbed. “Doctors help you!”

So she agreed. Not because she actually thought she was going to die-- she knew she wouldn’t. But because she’d just traumatized Beth and she wanted to do whatever she could to diminish the effects.

Hours later, they were still at the hospital because she was clearly _not_ an emergency when Shelby came bursting in, looking harried and furious. Beth let out a piercing cry of “MOMMY” before she jumped out of Rachel’s lap, ran to Shelby and threw her arms around Shelby, sobbing.

Rachel rose to her feet and approached them. “I’m sorry,” Rachel said, contrite. She couldn’t look Shelby in the eyes, couldn’t face the anger she knew was there because she knew she deserved it.

“We agreed you would keep him away from Beth,” Shelby said, her voice low but _venomous_.

“I’m sorry,” Rachel whispered. “I didn’t know he would show up.”

Shelby stroked Beth’s hair and pressed a kiss to the top of Beth’s head. “Baby, go sit with Crystal for a few minutes, okay? I want to talk to Rachel.”

Still sobbing, Beth nodded and walked back to Crystal, whilst sniffling and wiping at her eyes with the palms of her hands. They watched as Beth climbed into Crystal’s lap and once they were both satisfied that Beth was okay, Shelby grabbed Rachel by the arm and they walked outside.

“You,” Shelby said lowly. “You are an adult and you make your own choices. If you want to stay with a man who is abusive to you, that’s your choice.”

“We aren’t together,” Rachel protested weakly.

“Shut up,” Shelby said, practically growling. “I’m the mother. _You’re_ the kid. So just shut up and listen. You’re an adult and you’ve made your choice stay with him. _Beth_ did _not_ make that choice. I trusted you to take care of her and I am _so_ disappointed in you. He is clearly unbalanced and don’t you _dare_ defend him and tell me he wouldn’t hurt a child, because if he would hurt you in front of her, if he would try to break down the door while she was in the apartment, then he is clearly very capable of hurting her. And the _only_ relief I feel right now is knowing he didn’t physically hurt her, too.”

“I’m sorry, Shelby,” Rachel said, unable to meet the older woman’s eyes. “I would never want something bad to happen to Beth. I’m so sorry.”

Rachel desperately wanted to hear a ‘it’s okay,’ despite knowing it was definitely not okay.

“Don’t you dare ever make this choice for Beth again,” Shelby warned.

“I won’t,” Rachel said quietly.

She was done. It was one thing to come after her-- she could forgive that. But she would never _ever_ forgive that he did this in front of Beth.

Shelby cupped Rachel’s cheek, forcing Rachel to look into Shelby’s face. Shelby peered down at the bruising on Rachel’s cheek. Her lips tightened.

“When the police take your statement, they’re going to offer you an Emergency Protective Order before you file your permanent restraining order. Don’t even think of refusing. You let them give you the Emergency Protective Order and you file the restraining order in court _tomorrow_ , is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Rachel said quietly, looking down at the floor. Shelby was still cupping her cheek, inspecting her face and the scrutiny made her want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“And don’t even think about telling me ‘yes,’ just to get me off your back. I’m going with you tomorrow to do it, is that understood?”

“Yes,” Rachel said quietly.

“And don’t you _dare_ try to guilt trip me again by telling me you don’t walk away from people who disappoint you. This isn’t disappointment,” Shelby said, lightly fingering the bruising on Rachel’s cheek. “This is assault. And I don’t care if he’s no longer your boyfriend and just a friend, you are not to see him again, is that understood?”

“Yes,” Rachel said meekly.

“And don’t change your mind tomorrow and tell me I’m not your mother. I gave birth to you, I’m your mother. And maybe I’m not your mom. Maybe I have no right to do this. But I think you’ve proven you are _not_ an adult yet, Rachel. Adults look out for their own best interests and you seem determined to rail against yours.”

Rachel’s eyes filled with tears. She felt the need to defend herself because she felt so _stupid_ now being so high and mighty about being a supportive friend and all that _crap_. Look at where it got her. But the thing was, as unstable as Ryan was, she _never_ thought he was capable of actually hurting her. She’d never seen him so out of control. She’d never been so afraid of him. During those minutes when she was under the kitchen table with her hands over Beth’s ears, and holding onto that sobbing little girl, Rachel prayed he’d just revert back to the sweet guy she knew and _leave_.

“I didn’t think it would ever get to this point,” Rachel said shakily. “I never….I just didn’t think he was capable of it. I never knew. And I’m _so_ sorry Beth had to hear and see all that. I’m _so_ sorry, Shelby.”

Shelby’s face softened, and she tucked some hair behind Rachel’s ear. “I told you I knew to avoid him from _experience_ , Rachel. Trust me, okay? I’m not a monster out to get you.”

Rachel swallowed hard and nodded.

“Are you all right?”

Rachel waved her hand dismissively. “I’ve had worse.”

Shelby’s face instantly hardened. “From him?”

Rachel shook her head. “No, no. Of course not. I…I got really drunk once and was going up the stairs at my apartment. I did a face plant right into the stairwell,” she babbled. “That’s what I meant and--”

“Rachel,” Shelby cut off. “I get it. Now are you all right?”

Rachel swallowed hard.”Yes.”

Shelby sighed and gave her a quick hug. “I’m taking Beth home. I want to get her into bed before she gets even sicker from all these people in the Emergency Room.”

Rachel’s insides flooded with guilt again. She hadn’t even thought about that. “I’m sorry,” Rachel said meekly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning at 10,” Shelby said. “We’ll go to the police station and pick up your police report so we can go to the courthouse to file your restraining order.”

“Okay,” Rachel said quietly.

Shelby sighed. “Have the doctor look at you, go home, get some rest and think about what restaurants you want to go next week for your birthday, okay?”

Rachel nodded. “Okay.”

“Goodnight, Rachel,” Shelby said.

“Goodnight.”

\--

The next day, Rachel filed her restraining order. She was granted a temporary restraining order to replace the emergency protective order which expired 72 hours after it was issued. Ryan would still need to be served before the long-term restraining order could be granted, but Shelby nodded with satisfaction when the TRO was granted.

“You’re keeping that next court date,” Shelby said grimly. “No excuses.”

“Yes,” Rachel said softly.

“I’m coming with you just to make sure,” Shelby warned.

“Okay,” Rachel said quietly, and in all honesty, it would be nice to have the support.

\--

It was stupid considering what he did, but Rachel missed him. Sometimes she thought about just calling him up and dismissing the restraining order. After all, it really wasn’t that big of a deal-- he just gave her a bloody nose and a bruised cheek. It’s not like he _really_ beat her up. But then she remembered Beth’s screaming and wailing and the way she found Beth hiding under the kitchen table and she knew it wasn’t a relationship she could afford to keep anymore.

She didn’t want to abandon him-- he’d been a good, loving, supportive friend to her. Despite being a little laconic and inelegant with his words when he did choose to speak, he was warm, sweet and cuddly which she knew were traits better suited to a puppy than a boyfriend, but still. She hated herself for giving up on him when he so clearly needed love, help and support-- which he would have given her if she needed it. But he said it himself once-- it was okay to be selfish when you were just looking out for yourself.

And Rachel knew she had to look out for herself.

\--

It was such a cliché, but Rachel ran into Quinn again on Valentine’s Day.

Nearly everyone Rachel knew was paired up with someone. Crystal was still dating Gabe which was _shocking_ because Crystal’s attention span was shorter than an insect’s. Most of her costars were in committed relationships and the ones who weren’t invited her out, but she didn’t want to do a group thing with them. She didn’t want to sit alone by herself at home like a loser and she wasn’t so evolved as a person that she could stay at home alone on Valentine’s Day and not feel like the friendless loser everyone in high school told her she was.

Calvin and Monique were throwing a party at their apartment and while Rachel wasn’t in the mood to deal with so many people at once, it was her best option. She didn’t understand why they didn’t just do something alone together considering they were a couple, but they were a weird little couple and she’d long learned not to analyze the things they did.

\--

Monique let her in and grabbed her into a big bear hug.

“Hail the conquering Broadway hero!” Monique bellowed in Rachel’s face.

Monique was clearly already drunk.

Rachel chuckled. “Hello,” she said dryly.

Monique pulled Rachel inside. “Let’s get you drunk,” Monique said cheerfully.

Rachel smiled. It’d been a rough few months. She was _absolutely_ ready to get drunk.

\--

Rachel didn’t broadcast what happened with Ryan, but she changed her phone number and the lease on her apartment was expiring in another month. She and Crystal were giving up their apartment so Crystal could move in with Gabe and Rachel would be on her own. She did _not_ want anyone to give Ryan her new information, though he was abiding by the restraining order. Most of the mutual friends she had with Ryan were no longer his friends long before she filed the restraining order, but she just wanted to be sure, so she told a few select people _not_ to give away her number in case he asked.

“Are you and Ryan still together?” Ivy Hobart asked her.

They’d all gone to school together and Rachel vividly remembered Ivy reading the school newspaper in a sociology class they shared and then falling asleep.

“Ryan?” Calvin yelped drunkenly, overhearing the question. “Where is he? I’m gonna punch his fucking heart out!” he flailed dramatically.

Monique rolled her eyes and put her hands on his chest. “Shut up and sit down before you gouge your eye out,” she said good-naturedly.

Rachel felt a rush of affection for him because Calvin really was a good guy.

“We aren’t together anymore,” Rachel told Ivy dryly.

Ivy nodded. “I never liked him. You date equal or up, not down.”

It was getting to be kind of a theme in her life. People she hadn’t been in contact with in a while were suddenly calling her up or texting her after hearing that Ryan was out her life. She wondered if she was _that_ blind, because even after everything, she didn’t see anything in him so wrong that so many people would turn their backs on him. But she didn’t want to get too soft when it came to him. She was worried about him and hoped he was doing well, but she knew she couldn’t have contact with him.

She wasn’t going to let herself be a statistic or a cautionary tale.

\--

Rachel was genuinely having a good time meeting with people she hadn’t seen since graduating NYU and meeting new people. Then she caught a glimpse of blond hair and her heart skipped a beat. She thought she was done seeing Quinn everywhere. For the first few months after they broke up, every blond girl made her think of Quinn and Rachel thought she was finally over it. But here she was, staring at some blond girl and thinking of Quinn. She couldn’t believe she was twenty three years old and still mooning over a relationship that ended so long ago. The length of time between the end of the relationship and the present exceeded the length of the relationship, so Rachel wished she weren’t so broken up over it, but she was. Why did every blond girl have to make her think of Quinn, especially the one hugging Monique. That girl was…

Oh God. That girl hugging Monique, that girl Monique introduced to her as a coworker, that girl actually was Quinn.

“Hi Quinn,” Rachel whispered.

Quinn smiled. “Hi Rachel.”

They stared at one another for a moment until Calvin Yamada, in his infinite wisdom and impeccable timing broke the spell.

“Hey!” Calvin called out drunkenly from across the living room. “Hey! Hey pretty blond lady! Rachel’s single and she likes blondes!”

Rachel and Monique released simultaneous little groans. Rachel covered her face with her hand.

“I’ve got this,” Monique said, moving toward Calvin. She turned back to look at them. “But she is single,” she called out.

Rachel groaned.

Quinn looked way too amused.

“Come with me to get a drink,” Quinn said gesturing toward the kitchen with a tilt of her head.

“Okay.”

They walked toward the kitchen, passing Calvin and Monique in the process.

“Is Ryan here?” Quinn asked, looking around in disdain. She’d never met him, but she knew what he looked like from pictures.

“Ryan?!” Calvin exclaimed, overhearing. “Where is he?! I’ll punch his stinking heart out!”

Rachel smiled wryly. “He will definitely not be here.”

Quinn smiled. “Good.”

Rachel swallowed hard. “He’ll definitely not be involved in my life at all, in fact.”

Quinn paused for a moment, and then she visibly brightened. She beamed at Rachel. “Oh!”

\--

They slipped away to talk privately. It was freezing cold, but Rachel barely noticed how frigid it was because there was snow falling around Quinn and getting into the ends of the blonde’s hair. Quinn looked so adorable with her coat and matching knit cap/scarf set, that it was distractingly cinematic. This woman was burrowed so deeply under her skin, Rachel doubted she could ever get her out. How was it possible, how was it fair, to want someone so badly and have it be so glaringly unrequited?

She was certain Quinn cared for her, but Rachel was also certain Quinn simply did not care for her the way she cared for Quinn or the way she wanted Quinn to care for her. She felt pathetic.  



	6. Chapter 6

Here was the thing: Quinn Fabray, despite all her attempts to modify certain less pleasant aspects of her personality had yet to change the fact that she was, in fact, shallow. She wasn’t as bitchy or callous as she used to be, but she was shallow.

After breaking up with Rachel, Quinn dated. A lot.

And she knew she had ridiculously high standards. First of all, if she didn’t find the person attractive, she couldn’t muster up an iota of romantic interest or affection for the person. A person did not _grow_ on her. She either found them attractive or she didn’t, but she’d never changed her opinion about a person’s physical attractiveness once she made it and her standards were high-- she was not into ‘sexy ugly’ or ‘hot in a unique way.’ If she didn’t find them attractive, that was the end. She liked sex and she thought this was an asset, not a liability. She didn’t think it was such a bad thing, except for the fact that she just couldn’t be attracted to 98% of the people she met because her standards of attractiveness were ridiculously high.

It’s not that she considered herself to be particularly pretty-- most days, she just reassured herself that _other_ people found her pretty, but when she looked in the mirror, she didn’t think she was all that much to look at. So she was annoyed with herself that she found looks to be so incredibly important. If the physical package wasn’t there, she sure as hell wasn’t going to take a second look.

Of course, most pretty people, and she included herself in this category, could be assholes and so she’d dated a lot of assholes and a fair amount of stupid pretty people and many pretty people who had irreparably damaged and warped personalities.

Statistically speaking, what were the chances she would find someone gorgeous, smart and sweet within the parameters she was looking for? She’d done a statistical analysis of this, factoring in geographical desirability and Quinn found that, statistically, there were two people in the entire state of New York who could suit her ridiculously specific requirements. And the first person Quinn instantly thought of was Rachel. Quinn assumed that other person was probably in a committed relationship since people like that didn’t stay single for long, even though she’d factored in ‘available’ when she ran her analysis.

Mathematically, she’d basically proven Rachel was it for her, although she didn’t _feel_ sure. Quinn was also certain since Rachel chose Ryan over her _twice_ , she was doomed to be perennially single with a few relationships here and there and when she stopped being pretty, she’ll become an elderly shut-in and then die alone.

This was the thinking which prompted her to accept her coworker, Monique’s invitation to a Valentine’s Day party at the apartment Monique shared with her boyfriend, Calvin.

And this was how she met Rachel once again.

\--

“I honestly can’t believe Shelby or Beth didn’t tell you about what happened,” Rachel confessed as they quietly talked outside Monique and Calvin’s building.

Quinn was, too. She was furious, but not so much with Rachel. She did have to admit, she was a little angry with Rachel for being stubborn about Ryan, but she wanted to _kill_ Ryan for what he did to Beth and Rachel.

“Well,” Quinn said calmly. “Maybe they just want to forget that it happened.”

“Maybe,” Rachel said quietly.

“And he’s abiding by the restraining order?”

“So far,” Rachel said softly. Her voice wavered slightly. “He’s not a bad person.”

Quinn tried not to roll her eyes. “Okay.”

“I wish I could have helped him,” Rachel said wistfully.

This time, Quinn couldn’t help it. She rolled her eyes. “Rachel, you’re not a therapist.”

“Therapy isn’t always efficacious. If he just had more support from family and friends…”

“How can you still defend him?”

Quinn just didn’t understand.

Rachel pouted morosely. “I just really wanted him to get better,” she sighed. “He helped me through some…difficult times in my life. I just wanted to be able to do the same for him. I didn’t want to accept that he could do anything to me that would make that unfeasible.”

Quinn softened. She loved this quality in Rachel. But she also thought Rachel’s insistence on loyalty was foolhardy. And Quinn was so angry at this guy for his actions and for the hold he seemed to have over Rachel. But she was also angry at Rachel-- and not so much because Rachel stuck by Ryan. In all honesty, Quinn really had not expected any differently. Rachel was a loyal friend. She was angry because Rachel _chose_ this guy over her and just left her behind. Quinn knew it was irrational-- she’d forced Rachel’s hand. But Rachel walked away without a second look and despite those pleading glances and honeyed tones, Rachel never tried to reach out for her. Rachel never _fought_ for her, and of course that made Rachel like everyone else in her life who clearly believed Quinn Fabray was not worth fighting for (contrary to popular belief). It was depressing to know once anyone got to know her, no one thought she was worth fighting for. She’d believed Rachel thought differently and it was painful and infuriating to realize Rachel did not.

Quinn wasn’t sure exactly how deep her feelings for Rachel went-- she was still trying to sort that out. She knew during the time of their separation, she thought of Rachel constantly and missed the wordy brunette almost to the point of yearning. She felt guilty about trying to make Rachel give up a friendship that was clearly important to her. But when Quinn tried to make Rachel choose, it truly wasn’t for selfish reasons. She was trying to protect Rachel because Quinn could sense danger looming. _Of course_ Quinn didn’t want Rachel to lose a good friend. But Quinn didn’t think it was a big deal to force Rachel to make a choice when that friendship with Ryan was inordinately toxic.

“You chose wrong,” Quinn said bluntly. “When you chose him over me, you chose wrong.”

Rachel nodded slightly. “Perhaps.”

“Not ‘perhaps,’ Rachel. You chose wrong.” Quinn was upset and the bitterness and resentment she felt having Rachel reject her _twice_ in favor of that guy rose up. But she couldn’t help but let the genuine affection she felt for the woman standing in front of her slip out either. They were both wearing flat boots that day, which maximized their natural height difference and the necessity for Rachel to bend her head back just to make eye contact was oddly adorable and enthralling. It was bizarre how that never stopped being cute and unsettling, how it just made her want to pull Rachel into her arms and take care of her.

Rachel looked away. “Perhaps.”

“You chose wrong,” Quinn whispered.

“Quinn…”

“You chose wrong.”

Rachel swallowed hard and gave a slight, almost curt nod. “I chose wrong,” she agreed quietly. She quietly looked up at Quinn for a moment, seeming to gauge her. “Do you think it’s something you could forgive me for?” she asked hesitantly.

“I don’t know,” Quinn admitted, because she was tired of not being first choice. She was Quinn fucking Fabray, she should _not_ be so accustomed to coming in anything other than first. And yet, here she was, totally used to it, totally unsurprised when she was cast aside.

“I missed you,” Rachel whispered.

“I missed you, too.”

“I love you,” Rachel said pleadingly.

Quinn swallowed hard. She wanted to say it back, she desperately wanted to say it back. She even _felt_ it. How could this girl drive her so crazy if she didn’t love her? But she just wasn’t certain and she didn’t want to say it back until she was sure. “Rachel,” she said softly. “Why are you telling me this? Why are you _doing_ this to me? _You_ left me. I gave you a chance to choose _twice_ and you walked away from me _both_ times. How the hell can I trust you not to walk away from me again? I don’t want to keep doing this with you.”

Rachel winced. “I love you,” she repeated. “Do you love me?”

“Rachel…”

Rachel didn’t wait for a response. “Can we try again?”

“Rachel…”

“Can we try again? It’ll be better this time, I promise,” Rachel said sincerely. “I know I haven’t given you a lot of reasons to have faith in me or in my commitment to you. But I love you and I just…I can’t leave tonight without at least asking you if you would consider giving me a second chance. Will you go out with me again? I’m not asking for commitment,” Rachel added quickly. “Just go out on a date with me. A proper date. I’ll pick you up, we’ll go to a restaurant of your choosing, participate in some type of mutually agreed upon activity of the non-sexual nature like ice skating or movie watching--”

Quinn laughed. Sometimes Rachel was so silly when she was trying to be serious. “And will you be picking up the tab for all this?” she drawled, interrupting what would have undoubtedly been a very long, very detailed account of every hypothetical situation they could have encountered.

Rachel smiled. “Of course,” she said. “The person asking for the date _must_ pay.”

“I might cost you an arm and a leg,” Quinn warned.

Rachel shrugged dismissively. “I’ve sometimes found having two sets of limbs is superfluous. You’re worth giving up the superfluity.”

“Tomorrow. At ten. After your show.”

Rachel nodded eagerly. “You won’t regret it.”

Quinn gave her a tiny smile. “Let’s go back upstairs. It’s cold out here.”

Rachel nodded and she reached for Quinn’s gloved hand, but seemed to think better of it and pulled it back, sticking it into her coat pocket. “Too forward?”

Quinn reached for Rachel’s arm and pulled Rachel’s mittened hand out of her pocket. She put their hands together. “No, not too forward.” Between her gloves and Rachel’s mittens, Quinn couldn’t even really feel Rachel’s hand, but it was exciting just the same. They walked hand-in-hand into Calvin and Monique’s apartment.

“Yes!” Calvin shrieked, once he saw them re-enter. He pointed very emphatically to them and began pointing and gesticulating wildly.

Quinn and Rachel looked at one another, exchanging puzzled, but tolerant smiles.

They watched as Monique dug into her jeans pocket and reluctantly gave Calvin a few dollar bills. Monique looked at them wryly, flashed a mock scowl and then gave a thumbs-up in support.

They looked at one another and laughed.

\--

Quinn wasn’t as excited for this date as she had been for her first date with Rachel. But this was a new start and she could not squelch the optimistic excitement she felt. So once again, she spent too much time getting ready and choosing and dismissing various outfits before she decided on an ensemble she knew Rachel appreciated on her.

Rachel was punctual-- knocking on her door at precisely 10pm. She’d scrubbed her face clean of the stage make-up, but she still had the same hairstyle. It was a little silly, but charming at the same time and Quinn could not resist a smile.

“Hi,” Quinn whispered.

“Hi,” Rachel said with a smile. She passed Quinn the flowers she was holding. “These are for you.”

Quinn smiled teasingly. “These aren’t flowers from your fans that you are now re-gifting to me, are they?” she joked.

Rachel laughed at the absurdity. “I may be the walking, breathing cliché of the struggling actress--”

“Broadway actress,” Quinn cut in. “You’re a Broadway actress now.”

Rachel giggled. “All right. I may be the walking, breathing cliché of the struggling _Broadway_ actress, but I would never give you second best, re-gifted flowers.”

Quinn felt her insides melt into a gooey, squishy mess. But there was one thing she wanted to make absolutely certain of before she left with Rachel on this date before she got too hopeful all over again. “If Ryan called you,” she began quietly. “Would you run to him or would--”

“I chose wrong,” Rachel said firmly. “I should have chosen you.”

Quinn swallowed hard. “Where are we going?” she asked casually as she stepped out of her apartment and shut her door. She linked arms with Rachel as they walked down the hall, into the elevator and then out of the building.

“It’s a surprise.”

Quinn chuckled. “How surprising can it be when it’s one of two choices? I have a fifty-fifty shot of getting it right.”

Before they even met up, Rachel insisted she choose the restaurant, but Quinn wanted to be sensitive to Rachel’s dietary needs and so narrowed down the restaurant choices to two and requested Rachel make the final choice.

Rachel laughed. “Yes, but if you guess wrong, then you’ll be surprised at being wrong. And if you guess right, you’ll be surprised you chose right. It’s win-win for me, particularly considering you’ll like the restaurant regardless of whether you’re right or you’re wrong.” She momentarily pulled her attention away from Quinn to signal for a cab.

Quinn laughed. “Food would taste better if I’m right though.”

Rachel burst into delighted laughter from low in her belly. She turned back to stare at the blonde, and she was still laughing as she did so, head thrown back, mouth wide open as one hand covered her belly and the other hand rose up to cover her mouth.

Quinn felt affection and lust war with one another, and so she just gave into it. She grabbed Rachel by the elbow and pushed Rachel back gently.

“What--”

Rachel’s back met the wall and Quinn stared at Rachel for a moment before she pressed her lips to Rachel’s, licking her tongue across Rachel’s provocatively full lower lip. How many nights did she wake up with the taste of Rachel on her lips, with the memory of sucking that pouty lower lip? Quinn wasn’t sure who it was that moaned first, maybe it was both of them, but all she could hear was their low groans as they continued to kiss feverishly. If were Los Angeles or the Caribbean or whatever, Quinn was fairly sure she would have just yanked down Rachel’s tights and dropped to her knees right there on that street. But it was New York in February and though Quinn’s body temperature rose enough that she started sweating, she could not ignore it was cold.

She pulled back, panting softly and could not resist palming Rachel’s face, her thumbs resting at the corners of Rachel’s swollen lips. “Come on,” Quinn said softly. “It’s time you bought me dinner.”

\--

Quinn didn’t have a silly rule against sex on the first date, but she just preferred not to do it. Although when it came to Rachel, this date could hardly be considered their “first” date. If Quinn recollected correctly, this was their _third_ first date. But she absurdly went into this date with the thought of her high school mantra ‘it’s all about the teasing, not about the pleasing’ (although fat lot of good that did for her) because she didn’t want to have sex on the first date and have Rachel lose respect for her. Quinn _knew_ it was absurd-- it was so unfathomably absurd, she couldn’t even articulate why she felt that way because she knew it was unspeakably _stupid_.

And of course, like everything else she’d ever planned out in life, this particular plan went to shit, because after dinner and a few glasses of Moscato in the wine bar next door, Quinn _pulled_ Rachel up to her apartment and within minutes was standing, completely naked with the back of her calves against the foot of her bed and Rachel on her knees in front of her.

Her fingers clenched into Rachel’s hair-- it must have hurt, it probably would have hurt on any other occasion, but Rachel gave no indication of feeling any pain as she tongue slipped out.

Quinn moaned once she felt Rachel’s tongue licking, sucking and sliding into her. The warmth between her legs had been building up from the second Rachel picked her up and she’d been dying for any kind of friction between her legs all evening. She _needed_ this. Quinn just tried to _breathe_ because she didn’t want to embarrass herself and pull a Finn Hudson (she’d long associated, maybe a little uncharitably, premature ejaculation and other related issues with her former boyfriend). But having that mouth move between her legs with the licking, sucking, nibbling, rubbing…it was almost too much and Quinn tried to control herself, her breathing coming out in harsh pants and shaky, lengthy groans. It didn’t help Rachel was almost _mewling_ with pleasure, like she couldn’t get enough of it. Any time Rachel did that, like Quinn was the best meal Rachel ever had, it just made Quinn even wetter and the blonde thought about how soaked she was between her legs, how her entire body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

Rachel also seemed to be adhering to a mantra of ‘teasing, not pleasing,’ because every time Quinn would get close and tighten her hold at Rachel’s hair, Rachel would do something that would decrease the pressure building up. She’d twitch, practically pulsating because of her craving for more and she knew Rachel’s face was so wet with her cum, she was sparkling and distantly, Quinn knew this would embarrass her later. But she didn’t fucking care right now. She was so wet, her body was almost pulsing with the need to just fucking _come_ already and still Rachel continued to tease. She’d try to smash Rachel’s face into her a little harder, urging Rachel for more, a silent plea for release. But Rachel would chuckle throatily and that tongue would just tease her a little more.

“Fuck,” Quinn managed to groan out. “Fuck. Rachel…please…just…” She felt like she was going to die. Her entire body was drenched in cum and sweat-- even her hair felt wet and she felt out of her mind. All she wanted to do was scream in frustration because she was so so close, but so so far.

Rachel chuckled softly. “I’ll make the wait worth it,” she promised before she resumed her careful, very detailed, very prolonged study of Quinn. She pressed a soft kiss on each of Quinn’s inner thighs. “I just can’t get enough of you. Can you blame me?”

“Fuck you,” Quinn ground out, she was so beyond _frustrated_. She was almost crazed right now. If she didn’t get to come right this second, she would have a psychotic fucking break, she really would. Her entire ass was soaked in anticipatory sweat. She was going to kill this girl.

And once again, that infuriating girl just _laughed_ , passing for a moment to sit on her ass, lean back and look at Quinn with profound amusement. Quinn took in that sight, Rachel’s wet mouth, the way her nose, cheeks and chin glistened. That messy, wanton hair and those heavy-lidded eyes. Quinn wanted her. Quinn needed her. She used her right foot to push down on Rachel’s shoulder.

Rachel looked at her, puzzled. “Wha--”

Quinn used more pressure until Rachel got the message and got flat on her back. Quinn lowered herself down, straddling Rachel’s face and lowering herself down, because this was the only way she was going to have any fucking release. Rachel could either let her come _right_ now or she could fucking suffocate, all Quinn knew was that one of them was going to die if she didn’t get to fucking come _right_ now. The last thing she heard before she felt Rachel’s tongue slip into her again was a low, throaty chuckle.

Quinn’s eyes squeezed tightly shut as she felt that lick-suck-kiss-lick-suck-bite-nibble again until finally, _finally_ , Quinn just seemed to _explode_. It was endless and Quinn released a short scream before she quieted down into low grunts and groaned exhalations as Rachel continued to lick-suck-kiss-lick-suck-bite-nibble until finally, it all stopped and Quinn could think again. Her legs felt wobbly and the muscles in her calves ached a little bit like after a particularly long run, but the rest of her felt so relaxed and boneless, like she was made of water. Jesus, she could barely think. She scrambled off Rachel and sat on her ass, half curled, both hands on the ground, panting and trying to catch her breath.

Quinn turned back to face Rachel, her cheeks pink. She felt sane again, she’d almost lost her mind and now she was so embarrassed for being so crazed. “I’m so sorry,” she said, looking around for something to handy to pass Rachel so she could clean up.

Rachel saw up, chuckled and slowly licked her lips, like she was savoring it. She wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. “Female ejaculation is very normal, Quinn. In fact, I’m rather honored and pleased.”

“Oh God,” Quinn groaned in acute embarrassment. She hated this girl.

“Can I try again?” Rachel asked impishly. She reached out to finger Quinn between her lips and Quinn twitched.

Quinn loved this girl. “Come here,” she whispered, grabbing Rachel by the hand and pulling the brunette towards her as she lay on her back.

Rachel grinned slowly and she hovered over Quinn. “Hey baby,” she whispered, her tongue peeking out to lick behind Quinn’s ear. “I’m hungry.”

 

\--

It’d been a while since she had sex with a person all night, and frankly, the last person she’d done that with was Rachel. Sex sometimes still embarrassed Quinn-- she couldn’t watch an episode of _Sex in the City_ without feeling vaguely embarrassed for any woman who would talk about sex so freely in a public place.

Okay, so she wasn’t going to say the word ‘pussy’ in public (she sometimes had a hard enough time saying it in private without blushing) and she wasn’t going to make public health speeches normalizing masturbation because Quinn felt anything even remotely related to sex was too intimate to talk about with anyone other than the person she was doing it with. Sex still embarrassed her, but she _loved_ having it and she was becoming less inhibited (in private) as time wore on.

But she hadn’t intended to have sex with Rachel on the first date, though in reality, it was hardly their first date, and she certainly hadn’t planned to have sex with Rachel all night. But she _really_ hadn’t planned on all the filthy, absolutely unmentionable things she let Rachel to her and what she did to Rachel.

She just couldn’t stop herself.

She’d long associated sexual intimacy for the intensity of the relationship, and so the more comfortable she became in the relationship and the longer it wore on, the more Quinn was wiling to do. This moved a little faster than she planned and she wasn’t sure if Rachel felt the same way, but she thought it may be a possibility.

It was 5am when they finally pulled away from one another and Quinn eyed her bedroom with dismay, because it was in complete disarray. The lamp on her nightstand was toppled over, which wasn’t a big deal because it was kind of ugly and Quinn had purchased it in college back when she was poorer and just never replaced it because it was still fulfilling its function. Her bedsheets had been ripped off the bed-- even the mattress cover had been ripped off. Sheets, pillows, pillow cases, and clothing were strewn haphazardly around the room.

This was just embarrassing.

Rachel sat up and looked around, her forehead furrowed in consternation. “I did not expect this to happen.”

It was the first real conversation they had since returning to Quinn’s apartment. Most of the night since their return had been filled with one- worded pleas (“please” and “fuck”) or one-worded commands (“harder” and “there” and “suck”).

“Neither did I,” Quinn said quietly.

Rachel looked at her intently. “Did you feel…obliged?” she asked tentatively.

Quinn snorted. “Rachel, look at this room. Do you really think I felt obliged? I just…didn’t expect it to happen like this so soon.”

Rachel smiled at her, a little amused, but clearly still on edge. “My intentions weren’t to get you into bed when I asked you out,” she said quietly. “I don’t want to give you the impression that it was. I love you.”

Quinn swallowed hard and as good as it felt to hear Rachel say that (and it felt amazing), she simultaneously wished Rachel would stop saying it because it just felt too soon. “I know that, Rach. I know the kind of person you are.”

Rachel gave her a wide smile, clearly relieved. “Okay.” She looked around the room in dismay. “Let’s clean up.”

Quinn shook her head. “No, it’s okay. I can do it. You have to be at rehearsals in less than an hour, right?”

Rachel bit her lip. “Yes, but--”

“I’m a big girl, I can clean up on my own. Go take a shower,” Quinn said gently. “You _really_ need one,” Quinn joked, but it wasn’t really a joke because the room smelled of sex and sweat. She’d have to change her sheets and Rachel definitely needed to shower because anyone who wasn’t a virgin would definitely raise their eyebrows at Rachel’s current state. Rachel had ‘I just spent the night fucking’ written all over her, right down to the tiny smirk.

Rachel gave her a small smile. “Okay,” she said simply.

Quinn lay there on her back, on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. She listened to the shower run and grinned with pure affection when she heard Rachel singing ‘Defying Gravity.’ She wanted things to slow down-- things always moved so fast with Rachel, her head spun. But she wanted this girl. That much, Quinn was sure of.

She was dozing off when the water stopped and after a few minutes, Rachel was back, toweling off. Quinn surreptitiously watched Rachel dress through heavily lidded eyes. For someone so petite, Rachel’s legs were unfathomably long. She blushed at the memory of those gorgeous calves wrapped around her head just a few hours before. This girl had been driving her crazy since daycare. Rachel hurriedly dressed, searching for various items of hastily discarded clothing and occasionally squawked with triumph when she found a scarf or an earring. Each time, Rachel would glance over at Quinn, blush and cover her mouth before putting on the earring or wrapping the scarf around her neck.

Far too quickly, Rachel was dressed again and Quinn shut her eyes all the way because she didn’t want to get caught spying. Rachel knelt beside her on the floor for a moment and Rachel’s warm lips pressed gently against her forehead. Rachel covered her with an extra blanket, tucking the blanket around her with sweet care.

And then Rachel was gone.

Even though Quinn felt like things were moving too quickly and she wished Rachel wouldn’t say ‘I love you’ with quite so much regularity, Quinn was unexpectedly peeved when she never got a call from Rachel that entire day-- not even a text or email.

She wondered if maybe Rachel lied to her-- if all that sweetness was just a manipulation to get her to have sex. But Quinn immediately dismissed it. Quinn was insecure-- sometimes painfully so, but she wasn’t _crazy_ and the idea Rachel could be…would ever be that manipulative for _sex_ which Quinn was so willing to give, that was just insanity.

But the notion started to become a little less insane when another day, a third day and then a fourth day passed by without Rachel contacting her. She called Rachel a couple times-- she didn’t want to come across as desperate and sent a few ‘hey, how’s life?’ texts, but she got no response.

She was going to kill that sweet-talking midget.  
\--

She dropped by Rachel’s apartment after she got off work. She banged on the door and Crystal opened it after a few moments. Quinn stared at her, because all she was wearing was a bedsheet.

“Jesus,” Crystal said. “I thought you were a cop. You have a cop knock.”

“Sorry,” Quinn said, a little chagrined.

“Rach is in her bedroom. She _finally_ took something stronger than green tea and Echinacea. God, she’s an idiot.”

“What?” Quinn asked, puzzled.

But it was too late because Crystal was already heading back to her own bedroom, where presumably, her own boyfriend was waiting for her.

\--

Quinn opened the door to Rachel’s room and found it to be as dark as possible with the blinds drawn. Rachel was a pathetic lump in the middle of the bed under a mountain of blankets. The second Quinn entered the room, she heard Rachel’s wheezing and congested coughing.

Oh. Well, this explained a lot. Some part of her was a little triumphant-- the egotistical part of her. But mostly, she was concerned and sat down on the bed, making sure not to jar it too much.

“Hi,” Quinn said softly, wondering if Rachel was awake. Rachel was lying down on her stomach, face pushed into her pillow. She pressed her hand to Rachel’s fevered forehead and bit her lip, concerned.

It took a few moments, but Rachel responded sleepily. “Hi,” she said hoarsely. She peeked up at Quinn with one eye.

“You’re sick,” Quinn declared unnecessarily. She wanted to laugh a little because all of her earlier worries seemed so _insane_ when the truth was just so mundane.

“Oh, is that what this is?” Rachel joked. She coughed again and peered up at Quinn with glassy eyes and a pitiful expression.

Quinn laughed softly and brushed hair away from Rachel’s face. “How long have you been sick?” she asked, concerned.

“I’m not sick,” Rachel denied. “I’m taking a mental health day.”

Quinn snorted.

Rachel pouted.

They stared at one another for a moment before Quinn laughed softly. “All right,” she said. “How many mental health days have you taken?”

“Three,” Rachel admitted. She turned her head and coughed, her entire body wracked by it.

Quinn winced. “Did you see a doctor?” She stroked Rachel’s hair.

“This morning,” Rachel said. “Crystal took me. Dr. Kao gave me some interesting medication. And a very delicious roasted sweet potato.”

Quinn paused. “Uh…what?”

“It was a very good sweet potato. It was shaped like Mr. Potato Head, which I suppose should not have quite surprised me so much considering the similarities between potatoes and sweet potatoes. A few days ago, I was eating a yam in the kitchen and Crystal said it reminded her of a dildo.” Rachel frowned. “I sat on the sweet potato Dr. Kao gave me,” she said mournfully. “So I never got to really experience if it was delicious or not, but it certainly looked delicious. I am very upset I never got to experience its true delicious potential.”

Quinn was silent for a moment as she absorbed that. She understood every word, but none of it made any sense. It was rare to listen to someone speaking in the only language she knew fluently, understand every word but still be completely unable to digest what the hell the speaker was saying. But that sort of thing seemed to happen a lot with Rachel.

“Sweetheart,” Quinn said. “Are you sure you didn’t dream all of that?” She glanced at the medications on Rachel’s nightstand. Rachel was not a medication person-- she really did medicate any cold with green tea, orange juice, Echinacea and positive thinking. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that even the most common or innocuous of medications, including over-the-counter medications would make Rachel loopy. Given all the medications on Rachel’s nightstand, Quinn was fairly certain Rachel was mixing medications which couldn’t be helping either. Rachel sounded delirious.

Rachel suddenly clutched Quinn’s hands. “Tell Crystal I’ll clean it up!” she said fretfully. “I sat on the sweet potato, and of course, I’ll clean it up!” She struggled to sit up.

Delirious or not, Rachel sounded distressed, so Quinn placated her. “Of course I’ll tell her,” she soothed, pushing Rachel back on the bed. “Just get some rest, okay?”

“I should call my father,” Rachel murmured. “My sister’s birthday is coming up and he never remembers. He never remembers mine, so how would he remember hers?”

“Rachel,” Quinn said patiently. “You don’t have any sisters.” She paused and thought of Beth. “At least, not from your dads,” she added.

Rachel looked at her bleary-eyed. “And tell Crystal I refuse to get a pet pterodactyl. She’ll inevitably neglect it and I’ll be stuck cleaning up after it. I would imagine that a pterodactyl given its size, even a baby one like Crystal wants would have massive feces and I don’t want to clean up feces for a pet that’s not even mine.”

Quinn wanted to laugh so badly, it was painful. She thought she would _die_ from her desire to laugh. But she just couldn’t laugh in Rachel’s face, not when she was sick, clearly delirious and obviously miserable. “Rachel,” she murmured. “Close your eyes, okay?”

Rachel’s eyes obediently shut and Quinn stroked Rachel’s hair and hummed. Rachel cuddled into her and after a few minutes, Rachel eventually went back to sleep. Quinn gently disentangled herself from the brunette and left the room, walking across the hall to knock on Crystal’s door.

“Come in!”

Quinn opened the door to find Gabe, shirtless, smoking a spliff by the open window and Crystal lying naked on her stomach in the bed, covered only by a thin sheet. The room was freezing, and Quinn clutched her coat closer, wondering how those two could be so naked by an open window in this weather. Quinn averted her eyes from Crystal’s naked back.

“How long has she been like that?”

“A few days,” Crystal said. “I finally got her to see a doctor this morning when I said her understudy was getting a little cocky. You know that girl thinks ‘understudy’ is a dirty word invented specifically to irk and stress her out.”

Quinn chuckled. “Yeah. She’s kind of loopy.” She paused. “ _Did_ she sit on a sweet potato today?”

Crystal burst into laughter. “No!” she exclaimed and even Gabe, began to laugh hard enough to choke on the smoke. “Dr. Kao did _not_ give her a sweet potato. I think Rachel either dreamt that or hallucinated. Dr. Kao gave her, like, antibiotics or something. But she’s been going _on_ about it. Did she talk about the pterodactyl, too?”

Quinn laughed. “Has she eaten anything?”

“I couldn’t get her to eat anything for the last few days. She’s a _horrible_ patient. I think the last time she ate was when she went on that date with you.”

“She kicked me,” Gabe added, in amusement.

Crystal glanced at him and smiled. “Tattletail,” she chided fondly. She turned back to Quinn. “Maybe you’ll have better luck. She’s been delirious for two days, but Dr. Kao said it was just the fever and that she’ll be okay. But we need to take her to the ER if her fever climbs.”

“I’m going to get her something to eat,” Quinn declared, because she felt certain she could beat this flu or whatever it was into submission, she would just need Rachel to take care of herself. “Can I borrow your keys?”

“They’re on the hook by the front door.”

“Thanks.”

\--

Quinn came back to the apartment and set the split pea soup on the counter. She returned to Rachel’s bedroom and found the brunette still sleeping under the mountain of blankets.

“Rachel,” Quinn said. “Come on, get up. Let’s go to the kitchen. You need to eat something.” She sat down and stroked Rachel’s hair. “Come on, wake up.”

Rachel swatted weakly at Quinn’s hand. “I just wanna sleep,” she muttered petulantly. “Leave me alone. I’m very cranky and I’ll sic our pet pterodactyl on you, Quinn. I love you very much, but I just want to sleep.”

Quinn bit back laughter. “You’ll make your pterodactyl eat me?” she asked with mock-sadness.

“Don’t be ridiculous. My pterodactyl will just maim you, but not in any permanent way. Just enough to make you leave me alone to sleep.”

“Honey, you don’t have a pterodactyl.”

“Did you give him away?” Rachel squeaked. “I hope you gave him away to a non-kill shelter!”

“No, Rachel. You never had a pet pterodactyl. They’ve been extinct, for like, thousands of years.”

Rachel cocked open one eye and looked up at her. “I _know_ that, but the scientists at Jurassic Park brought them back. I remember it very clearly as the worst family vacation ever.”

“That wasn’t your family vacation, honey. That was a movie.”

“Oh.”

Quinn bit her lip. “Yeah.”

There was silence and Quinn thought maybe Rachel fell asleep and it was best to just leave her alone and let Rachel sleep. But she was worried because she knew Rachel was taking medications on an empty stomach. God, she was a terrible patient. .

“Quinn?”

“Yes, Rachel?”

“My head hurts.”

Quinn nodded sympathetically and stroked Rachel’s hair. “I know, sweetheart.”

“Quinn?”

“Yes, Rachel?”

“My stomach hurts.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“Quinn?”

“Yes, Rachel?”

“Did you really give Terry away?”

“Terry?”

“The pterodactyl,” Rachel said peevishly. “Did you really give him away to a shelter?”

“Honey,” Quinn said, trying desperately not to laugh. “If you sit up, I’m going to bring you something to eat and then I’ll bring Terry home, okay?”

Rachel nodded eagerly and sat up gingerly, and looked at Quinn expectantly.

Quinn smiled and couldn’t resist gently tweaking Rachel’s nose. She grimaced a little when she realized Rachel’s nose was runny. This had to be love, however, because she really didn’t mind so much, though she fully intended on scrubbing her hands clean. “Stay here, okay?”

“Okay.”

Quinn went to the kitchen, washed her hands and prepared a tray of food to take to Rachel. Quinn returned with some split pea soup, a piece of whole grain toast, a sliced orange and a cup of green tea. Rachel was still sitting up, but dozing off and Quinn felt badly about waking her up, but she thought food was more important.

Rachel really was the worst patient ever because Quinn literally had to feed Rachel for the brunette to actually eat anything and even then, Rachel only consumed about five spoonfuls of soup, a bite of toast and an orange wedge.

“You’re such a drama queen,” Quinn said fondly.

“Where’s my pterodactyl?”

Quinn rolled her eyes, and managed to duck the question, but she spent the entire next day searching shops for a stuffed pterodactyl she could bring Rachel as a present. She was jubilant, genuinely _jubilant_ to find a stuffed Petrie doll from _The Land Before Time_ because Rachel loved that movie.

“Here’s your pterodactyl!” Quinn said, presenting it to Rachel with flourish when she dropped by the apartment to check on Rachel.

Rachel’s fever finally broke and she’d finally stopped dangerously mixing medications. She stared at Quinn and then the stuffed animal and burst into laughter.

“What are you talking about?” Rachel asked, bewildered. “My pterodactyl?”

\--


	7. Chapter 7

\--

It took two more days for Rachel to feel better, but by then, her reputation as the world’s worst patient had already been sealed. She went back to work, triumphantly relegating her understudy back to her rightful place.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Quinn said dryly after Rachel finished a rant about understudies who undermined.

“Thank you.”

“When you didn’t call, I thought maybe you didn’t like me anymore,” Quinn admitted softly. “It was kind of a relief you were literally delirious.”

Rachel paused and stared at her for a moment. “Hypothesizing there would ever be a day in the future when I wouldn’t like you is so silly,” Rachel commented finally, smiling fondly.

\--

Things progressed.

They spent a lot of time together and Rachel stayed with Quinn for a week when Rachel’s new apartment was being prepared. Quinn had a glimpse of what it would be like if things kept progressing between her and Rachel and it was good. She helped Rachel move in, and she let herself imagine what it would be like if they were to one day move in together. A part of her wanted this, and actually wanted more. But she continued to struggle with it.

She continued to be nagged by self-doubt. She _knew_ Rachel loved her. Rachel expressed it both in words and actions and if Rachel noticed Quinn had yet to say it back, Rachel did not comment on it. There was nothing Rachel did to make her feel pressured, but Quinn felt the pressure nonetheless.

It was fast, dizzying and intense and while it was enthralling and consuming in ways that were wondrous, it was also _terrifying_ for exactly the same reasons it was enthralling and consuming.

She wanted to say “I need this to slow down,” but she knew how Rachel would react-- Rachel would withdraw, slowly, but surely until she was gone. That was how it happened in high school-- she’d lost Rachel to herself long before she lost Rachel to that terrible, volatile argument. Though they’d both grown since high school, Quinn couldn’t risk losing Rachel like that again. She wanted Rachel-- she just wanted things to slow down until she was as sure about Rachel and Rachel seemed about her. Quinn was fairly certain she’d get there-- she just needed time to her brain and her emotions to catch up, she needed time to _think_ , she need time to be _sure_. But relationships tended not to survive that sort of request, and Quinn wasn’t sure she’d survive her relationship with Rachel blowing up yet again. It hurt all those other times before, and this time around she was so much more invested.

She felt so guilty because Rachel had no problem expressing her emotions, and Quinn didn’t know how to put on the brakes without making it seem like she was withdrawing. But her relationship with Rachel just seemed so far beyond her control and Quinn just wasn’t comfortable with that.

And then slowly, it seemed like _Rachel_ started pulling away from _her_. They were at a point where Quinn wasn’t ticking off the length of their relationships by natural hallmarks like holidays or birthdays anymore. They’d gotten together around Valentine’s Day, spent St. Patrick’s Day getting drunk together, celebrated her birthday together, got drunk again on Cinco De Mayo, went away for Memorial Day weekend, chipped in together to buy Beth a truly expensive birthday present, and watched fireworks on the Fourth of July. It was right around then that Quinn stopped measuring their relationship by holidays and just trusted the relationship would go at its own pace. But she continued to worry about how that pace would unfold.

It was right about Thanksgiving that Rachel started to pull away and Quinn was back to thinking about their relationship in holidays again. She thought about Labor Day and tried to remember what they did, if there was any indication Rachel was unhappy. She thought about Halloween and parsed her memory for similar details. She couldn’t think of anything. She was so confused about what could be so wrong in their relationship that Rachel would start pulling away when everything seemed fine.

\--

It was gradual, but once Quinn noticed, she began to panic. Did Rachel sense something? Rachel was quiet, withdrawn, distant and canceling dates. Quinn began frantically trying to hold on. Whereas before, she would try to slow things down by setting it up that she divided her free time almost equally between her friends and Rachel (because spending time together made things speed up), once Rachel began withdrawing, Quinn began to insist on spending more time together.

Quinn couldn’t figure it out. She couldn’t understand what brought on this change. She wanted it to slow down, but she didn’t want it like _this_ where it was dying off.

She couldn’t help but assume there was someone else. Rachel’s behavior was so suspicious and uncharacteristic, that of _course_ Quinn was suspicious there was someone else.

And so one night, when Rachel was sleeping next to her, Quinn got out of bed, grabbed Rachel’s phone off the nightstand and quietly tiptoed into Rachel’s living room. The phone was locked, but Rachel once off-handedly mentioned she used Quinn’s birthday as the pass code for both her phone and ATM card. Quinn punched in 4894 and it worked.

Quinn began scanning through the phone log-- most of the calls had names attached to them-- Quinn Fabray, Crystal Lemus, Calvin Yamada, Dylan Silver, etc. But there was one number that popped up over and over again in the missed call log which was _not_ assigned in the phone’s contacts. Quinn searched through Rachel’s text messages and again, she recognized most of names of the people Rachel was texting with, and when she read through the texts they were so innocuous.

But that unidentified number popped up again and again.

_You can’t ignore me forever, you little fucking cunt._

_I’m sorry. Just talk to me again. You’re my best friend! I miss you. I promise you, nothing like that will ever happen again. I will never put my hands like that on you again._

_If you keep ignoring me, I won’t be responsible for my actions_

_Just try and ignore me again and see if I don’t track you down and slit your fucking throat you snobby fucking cunt_

That one Rachel responded to.

_I love you, Ry, but you need help. Stop_

But the texts from him continued.

Quinn felt her blood boil. Ry. Ryan.

Well, _that_ explained it.

She gripped the phone tightly in her fist and then stomped into the bedroom.

“Wake up!” Quinn shouted.

Rachel woke up, disoriented, limbs flailing and glancing around. “Huh? What?”

“You lied to me.”

\--

Looking at Rachel stare at her, sleepy, disoriented and confused, Quinn couldn’t help but soften.

Quinn held Rachel’s phone up. “You’re talking to Ryan, aren’t you?”

Rachel’s eyes were wide. “Why are you looking through my phone?” she asked. “Isn’t that the sort of thing one does when one doesn’t trust…” she trailed off. “You don’t trust me?”

“You were being weird,” Quinn said lamely, trying to defend herself.

Rachel chuckled humorlessly. “So rather than confronting me, you thought it was best to invade my privacy?”

“It seemed the more expedient option,” Quinn said, hoping a tiny joke will keep Rachel from exploding.

Rachel couldn’t help but chuckle “Probably,” she conceded. She buried her head into her knees and let out a frustrated groan. “You found his texts?”

“And the missed calls.”

“He’s violating the restraining order,” Rachel admitted.

“Clearly,” Quinn snorted. She softened. “Are you okay?”

“He hasn’t come to the theatre. He hasn’t accosted me physically.”

“He threatened to…” Quinn’s voice wavered slightly. She didn’t want to go there. She didn’t want to repeat it. She wanted to cry because this man that Rachel loved so much threatened to _slit her throat_ and Rachel still defended him.

“It’s an idle threat. He would never.”

Quinn was so frustrated, she wanted to scream. “Did you report it to the police?”

Rachel flushed guiltily. “No,” she said quietly. Seeing the look on Quinn’s face, she was quick to burst out, “he doesn’t need to be in jail! He needs _help_.”

“I told you, you had a choice,” Quinn growled. “Him or me.”

Rachel’s eyebrows knitted into a frown, her forehead furrowing in the middle. “I’ve chosen you,” she said. “I never spoke to him. I just never reported it because I know he needs help.”

“Yeah,” Quinn scoffed. “Like you’re going to keep yourself from talking to him. You’ll do it eventually. And once again, you’ll choose him and burn me.”

Rachel’s eyes were wide. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“No?” Quinn mocked. “You’ve already done it. _Twice_.”

“I love you, I wouldn’t do that to you,” Rachel said quietly. “But he won’t get what he needs in jail, and he won’t even stay there that long. It’ll just disrupt his medication and therapy regime and set him back. I can’t do that to him! I know he wouldn’t actually hurt me-- but this is what he does when he’s angry. He’s volatile, but he’s not dangerous. He doesn’t even know where I live anymore.”

“How did he get your new number?”

Rachel flushed. “I don’t know. One of our mutual acquaintances probably gave it to him.”

Quinn eyed her suspiciously. From what Calvin, Monique and Crystal told her, Ryan had a tendency to burn a lot of bridges. Ryan and Rachel started out with a lot of mutual friends, but none of them were on speaking terms with Ryan anymore.

“Did you give him your new number?”

“No! I swear, I don’t know how he got it.”

“How am I supposed to believe you? You’ve been lying to me about not being in contact with him.”

Rachel’s eyes widened. “I didn’t lie to you. I haven’t responded to him.” She thought better of it and amended her statement. “Just once,” she added hastily. “I’m not lying to you,” she said quietly. “I would never have him back in my life after what he did in front of Beth.”

Quinn didn’t want to hear it. She was not going to be left behind again. “Stop lying to me,” she snarled, grabbing Rachel by the arm and pulling her closer. “I told you to _choose_ , so fucking choose,” she snapped, pressing her fingers down into Rachel’s skin for emphasis.

Rachel winced and yanked her arm away. “I’m not lying…I just didn’t tell you about it. I didn’t think it was relevant.”

“Lying by omission is still lying,” Quinn sneered.

“I didn’t want to upset you,” Rachel said lowly. “Look how upset you are now. I thought if I just ignored him, it’d go away. I never meant to upset you or for you to feel as though I’m choosing him over you. I…I thought I made myself very clear that I…I…” Rachel stammered slightly, clearly anxious. “I choose you,” she said quietly.

“Right, which is why you told him that you loved him,” Quinn sneered. She read the text again, deliberately making her voice high-pitched in an imitation of Rachel. “’I love you, Ry, but you need help. Stop,’” Quinn mocked.

Rachel swallowed hard. “Why do you always have to go a step too far?” she asked quietly, standing up and grabbing clothing haphazardly.

“Where are you going?” Quinn snapped, trying to calm herself down because Rachel was distant and retreating and this was not Quinn’s intent. She was angry, but she didn’t want to be away from Rachel at the moment.

“You don’t seem like you want to be around me right now,” Rachel said softly.

Quinn swallowed hard and reached for her. “You can’t go, this is your apartment, remember?” she asked lightly, trying to shoot for a little levity.

“ _I_ don’t really want to be around you right now,” Rachel said quietly. “I’m going to go to the gym and then get to the theatre early. You can stay here. Get some sleep. Or you can look around through my belongings. I don’t have anything to hide.”

“Rachel--”

“You just say things,” Rachel said softly. “Do you even think before you talk to me? Or do you not care how it’ll make me feel?”

“Rachel,” Quinn said calmly. “I think I have every right to be upset about you being in contact with him.”

Rachel gave a slight nod. “I guess,” she conceded quietly, not making eye contact. “But I’m not sure why this is. I’m not an idiot, Quinn. I’ve expressed my feelings to you multiple times, but don’t think I haven’t noticed you haven’t said anything back.”

Quinn felt as though Rachel just punched her in the stomach. “Rachel--”

“It’s okay though. I don’t want to pressure you into anything and obviously I want you to be free to make your own choices without my influence. But I’m not an idiot. And don’t you dare tell me I’ve been misleading you or lying to you when I’ve been extremely upfront about how I feel about you, even without knowing how you feel about me. I _made_ my choice and don’t you dare make me feel like I haven’t. We both know I made my choice and I’m _offended_ you would think or say otherwise.”

Rachel left before Quinn even had a chance to collect a coherent thought.

\--

She spent about thirty minutes sad-crying and another thirty minutes angry-crying before she began rummaging through Rachel’s bedroom and apartment almost out of spite, as if daring Rachel to come back and find her doing exactly what Rachel seemingly dared her to do. But Rachel didn’t come back and other than an unopened secret stash of Ben and Jerry’s icecream stuffed _way_ in the back of the freezer, there was nothing really surprising anywhere in Rachel’s apartment. She was angry with Rachel, but she also felt guilty and she wasn’t sure which emotion was to take precedence.

She didn’t see Rachel for a couple days after that. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Was this an actual fight? Like, for real? Quinn wasn’t sure what to do, because she wasn’t sure who was mad at whom anymore. She was ready to tear her hair out in frustration until she had flowers delivered to her office, and the accompanying card was decidedly conciliatory and apologetic.

Rachel showed up to Quinn’s apartment that night with more flowers and a handwritten apology note.

“I’m sorry,” Rachel said, smiling sheepishly. “Can we talk?” she asked hesitantly and she rocked back on her heels like she was expecting the door to be slammed in her face. “Please?”

“Get in here,” Quinn said hoarsely, grabbing Rachel’s elbow and yanking Rachel inside. It was such a relief to see her.

Their lips and bodies smashed together in a way that was cliché, but decidedly necessary.

\--

“It’s not my intention to be an insensitive jerk,” Rachel said plaintively when they were curled up in bed. She was the little spoon to Quinn’s big spoon at the moment and Quinn loved how her breasts felt pressed into Rachel’s back. She loved that she could stick her tongue out and lick a mark across the back of Rachel’s shoulder. She loved that if she turned her head _just so_ , she could take a deep breath and inhale the scent of Rachel’s hair. Rachel was very committed to her shampoo and conditioner regiment, but every once in a while, she liked to deviate from the norm with some kind of novelty scent. Rachel had tons of little bottles of shampoo and conditioner that came in various scents like cupcake (which Quinn and Rachel both agreed did not live up to its promise), margarita (too _off_ somehow), cut grass (‘makes me feel itchy,’ Rachel complained and chocolate chip (eh). This particular day, Rachel must have used rosemary mint, which was Quinn’s favorite for reasons she could not articulate.

“I never called you an insensitive jerk” Quinn murmured, pressing herself closer to Rachel, hugging the brunette just a little tighter and suppressing a sigh of her own when Rachel released a very soft exhalation of a breath she must have been holding.

“Dylan said I was an insensitive jerk.”

“I think he was overstating it a little,” Quinn laughed. She pressed a kiss to Rachel’s bare shoulder. “I’m sorry for being an insensitive jerk, too,” she said quietly.

Rachel sighed. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she said softly. “You know I can get a little single-minded.”

Quinn snorted.

Rachel gently elbowed Quinn. Quinn squealed and swatted Rachel’s bicep.

“I know I can get a bit single-minded,” Rachel repeated. “But I never meant to become so single-minded that I become insensitive to you. That was not my intention.”

“I know that,” Quinn said quietly.

“He was a good friend to me,” Rachel said somberly. “I don’t want to lose sight of that. He and I went through a very difficult time together and I know you understand what that’s like. I felt the necessity to be loyal to him but I never wanted you to feel as though I would choose him over you, because I know that is not a relationship I can sustain anymore. I’m sorry I made you feel anything to the contrary.”

“That’s pretty mature coming from you,” Quinn teased.

Rachel laughed. “I have to confess Dylan encouraged me to see a different viewpoint.”

“I like Dylan,” Quinn joked.

She’d heard a lot about this costar and even found him to be pretty talented. He was slightly older, but more accomplished and seemed to have taken Rachel under his wing. Quinn was glad Rachel had someone she could be close to. Quinn wasn’t _unreasonable_ or anything. She wanted Rachel to have a best friend and if Ryan were a different sort of guy-- a stable sort of guy, then Quinn wouldn’t have such an issue of Rachel’s ex-boyfriend being her best friend. Rachel didn’t really have a best friend anymore, at least, not like she had with Ryan and Quinn knew Rachel felt lonesome in a way Quinn could not quite fill, no matter how hard she tried. This costar guy seemed like he could fill that role in Rachel’s life that Ryan vacated. Quinn was happy for that.

\--

For a while Quinn thought she found an ally in Dylan. Rachel raved about him, and many sentences tended to start out with ‘Dylan said’ or ‘Dylan says,’ but Quinn didn’t mind because she was glad Rachel found someone she could be that close to, and because whatever Dylan said tended to be favorable to her (‘Dylan said it was perfectly reasonable for you not to want to come see the Barbra Streisand retrospective with me’-- uttered grudgingly and with a pout, but the point was conceded nonetheless.)

But then Rachel started to spend time away from her to spend with Dylan, which was okay at first, until it got to be _really_ frequent. It was okay at first because Dylan was going with Rachel to things that Quinn really didn’t want to go to, so having Dylan accompany Rachel just made Quinn’s life easier. But then it started shifting to shows, concerts and movies Quinn _wanted_ to go to with Rachel.

And then there were the nights out.

Quinn had a regular sort of nine-to-five job in a bank-- the exact sort of job creative types like Rachel tended to sniff at and wonder ‘how can you sit behind a desk all day, staring at a computer?’ whereas Quinn wanted to respond, ‘how can you have the sort of job where you’re not sure when it’ll end, the kind of job where people follow you around and take your picture and the sort of job where you may not be sure your next paycheck is coming from?’ But Quinn never asked.

Sometimes, she’d complain when Rachel would come over late at night, hours later than she promised, a little intoxicated (but not sloppy), with mussed hair and tasting of expensive tequila, some kind of fruity juice and a furtive drag of a bummed cigarette. But Rachel always reacted with the defensiveness of the slightly intoxicated and Quinn learned not to push it, though she worried about the fact she had the sort of boring nine-to-five job that did not afford her the luxury of staying out most of the night with Rachel and her friends and still be logged into her workstation by 8:30am.

Quinn could feel Rachel’s interest waning. If she’d cancel a date or go into the office on a Sunday and couldn’t hang out, Rachel was almost indifferent to it-- it didn’t bother her anymore. Rachel was still effusive and ardent in her affection-- when they were together, but when they were apart, Quinn did not get the sense Rachel was thinking of her the way she used to. That really bothered Quinn and shook her confidence.

And Quinn could sense Rachel’s interest wandering. Rachel probably didn’t even know she was doing it because Rachel was still surprisingly naïve about that sort of thing. When that sort of thing came up, Rachel always acted with surprise, utterly taken aback by things everyone else could see coming a mile away. That was the thing with Rachel--the dope was often oblivious to things the blind perceived, but could pick up on other, subtler things with the skill of a savant. If she confronted Rachel about the time she was spending with Dylan and the feelings Rachel was clearly developing for him, Quinn knew she would only be met with adamant denials. And Rachel would _mean_ it sincerely, because the dope probably wasn’t even aware of them yet or else there would be no way Rachel would announce another night out with Dylan so guilelessly.

So Quinn bided her time, fretted, worried and tried to swallow all of her suspicions, even as she felt Rachel’s affection and adoration slip away. She knew some of it was normal, though she did not want to admit to it. That first part of their relationship filled with giddy excitement was mostly over and so Rachel had returned to the business of her life. But Quinn did not want that business to include a wandering eye to her costar.

Dylan kept pulling Rachel away from her-- inviting Rachel out, keeping Rachel out so that her time with Rachel dwindled and diminished. And that just would not stand. Quinn held onto what she considered hers, and she kind of considered Rachel hers. They weren’t committed yet and Quinn didn’t know exactly where they were going or if they would last. She wasn’t even sure exactly how she felt about Rachel, but she considered Rachel hers. She sure as hell wasn’t going to be Dylan’s.

The last straw came during a cast party dinner which Quinn was miraculously able to attend because it was at a decent hour on a Sunday. She was seated next to Rachel, but Dylan was seated on the other side of Rachel and kept putting his arm around Rachel and pulling her close. It seemed big brotherly, but the sight put a bad taste in Quinn’s mouth, particularly because Rachel reacted the same each time by resting her head and one hand against his chest in a brief hug before laughing and pulling away. He’d press a kiss to the top of Rachel’s hair and Quinn swore she caught him sniffing Rachel’s hair a few times when he did it. With anyone else, Quinn would have spouted accusations of infidelity and possibly thrown an object. But Rachel looked at her guilelessly with way too much innocence and Rachel simply wasn’t _that_ good of an actress to lie on that level.

Quinn wanted to punch in his perfect, symmetrical face with that annoying butt chin and dual cheek dimples. She wanted to scratch out those intensely blue eyes and pull out that Elvis-dark hair, strand by strand. She just _hated_ him, but she bit her tongue and after dinner, she followed the group to a bar a few blocks down where they piled into a booth. Quinn watched, almost paralyzed when Dylan put his hand out for Rachel to take as they headed toward the jukebox. Quinn watched as Rachel seemed to get excited about something on the jukebox and within a few minutes, the bar was filled with the melancholy strains of ‘Famous Blue Raincoat.’

Dylan put his hand flat on Rachel’s upper back before drifting lower to graze the small of Rachel’s back. They hugged and swayed in a dance for a minute or so before walking toward the table, arm in arm and hand in hand.

“It won’t be long with those two now,” Kimberly, one of the cast mates muttered.”He’s always had a thing for the ingénues and the ingénues love him.”

Everyone laughed until they all seemed to remember Quinn was there and they all flushed, shifted uncomfortably and looked at her apologetically. It was so fucking cliché, Quinn wanted to scream.

Quinn forced herself to chuckle. “I can hold my own.”

Dylan and Rachel walked back, but when they got closer to the table, Rachel dropped his hand, pulled her arm away from him and practically scurried to the table. Quinn saw his face, the way his features darkened and he allowed himself to frown only for a moment before he laughed affectionately and followed after her. He wanted Rachel. Quinn could see that very plainly.

Rachel took Quinn by the hand and pulled her up. Quinn pretended it was too hard and deliberately stumbled into Rachel. Their breasts touched as she did and Quinn saw the way Rachel’s eyes darkened.

“I’ve got you,” Rachel drawled, her hands resting on Quinn’s hips to steady her.

“I know you do,” Quinn said softly.

“Come with me to the jukebox,” Rachel murmured.

“Okay.”

Rachel led her by the hand and they stood in front of the jukebox. Rachel wrapped her arm around Quinn’s waist and they stood close, so the lengths of their legs touched.

“Look,” Rachel said, pointing at a selection.

Quinn peered closer and then laughed. “’Time of my Life,’” she read. “God, I haven’t thought about that song in years.

Rachel smiled widely and popped in a dollar into the machine. She spent the extra credit to make it play next and once the song finally ended, ‘Time of my Life’ began to play.

Rachel turned to face her full-on and wrapped her arms around Quinn’s waist. “Oh, I’m having the time of my life and I swear I’ve never felt this way before,’” Rachel sang softly, breathing into Quinn’s ear.

Her breath tickled Quinn’s ear and Quinn kind of wanted to scratch at it, but she was also afraid Rachel would stop if she did. It was puzzling, these contradictory feelings Rachel always managed to simultaneously incur in her.

Quinn giggled and she pulled Rachel in closer. With the heels Rachel was wearing and Quinn in flats, they were now hip to hip. If they were in private and naked, they would have already been having sex, and Quinn thought that was an infinitely preferable option than standing around in a slightly dingy bar with people she had nothing in common with and some guy perving after Rachel.

“Can we get out of here?” Quinn whispered, though she felt the perverse urge to sing along with the song which seemed much longer than she remembered it. Longer and much more inane.

“Sure,” Rachel said. “Let me just say bye to Dylan and everyone else.”

It was the way Rachel said his name--so much affectionate. It was like a knife in Quinn’s rib cage.

“Hey,” Quinn said, holding on when she felt Rachel move to leave.

“Yeah?” Rachel asked softly, peering at her questioningly.

“I love you,” Quinn said. She felt it, of course. Had always felt it. Of course she loved Rachel. But she’d always been unprepared for the repercussions of saying it. ‘I love you’ meant different things for different people and Quinn was never ready to deal with how ‘I love you’ might be interpreted by Rachel. But she did feel it. She _still_ wasn’t ready yet to say it or to deal with how Rachel would feel about it, but Quinn felt the pressure of someone else’s interest in Rachel and Quinn just had to get back some semblance of control. She had to get back Rachel’s attention.

Rachel grinned so widely, it was almost like Rachel’s face was going to split in two. She just looked so happy and for a moment all Quinn could do was stare and smile back. That smile made her stupid.

And then the moment passed because Rachel pressed her forehead against Quinn’s, gave a softer, smaller smile and whispered, “let’s go back to my place.”

They said their goodbyes and Rachel’s hand was tightly encased in Quinn’s and Quinn tried to push down the triumphant feeling she got in the pit of her belly when Dylan looked at Rachel’s grin, looked at Rachel’s hand in Quinn’s and _clearly_ looked disappointed. Quinn knew it wasn’t a game or battle, so it wasn’t about winning or losing, but she still felt triumphant. Rachel was confiding in this man about their relationship, but now he knew his place.

\--

Things intensified again. For a couple months, she had Rachel mostly to herself and their relationship progressed quickly in a way that was scary and intimidating and just way way way out of Quinn’s control.

But just like their relationship intensified, Rachel’s friendship with Dylan intensified to the point Quinn felt the situation needed to be further monitored. And of course, things tended to go back to status quo, so once again, Rachel started going out a lot with Dylan and their castmates a lot.

The show was due to close within another month, but Quinn didn’t feel like she could risk waiting it out. She couldn’t stand the idea of Dylan seducing Rachel away from her. She trusted Rachel, but Rachel just had more in common with Dylan. Rachel’s career was extremely important to her, and Dylan understood things about it that Quinn never would. Even their personalities were more alike and somewhere in the back of her mind, the thought Rachel was more compatible with Dylan. It _really_ nagged at Quinn.

It was so stupid and so confusing to want to hold onto Rachel to the point of excluding everyone else in the world, but simultaneously being afraid of her feelings and unsure of where they were going. She knew it was unfair to Rachel, but Quinn just couldn’t help it.

The lease on Quinn’s apartment was due to expire shortly and she just spent too much time away from Rachel-- she wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted from Rachel, but she knew she didn’t want Rachel spending so much time away from her. And so, one night, when they were lying in Quinn’s bed, Quinn propped herself on her elbows and cupped the sides of her own face with her hands.

“My lease is expiring soon,” she said softly.

“Do you think you’ll move?”

“I’m hoping to.”

“I’ll help you look,” Rachel said with an easy grin. “I’ll make an Excel spreadsheet. We’ll start immediately.”

Quinn reached out with one hand to trace her initials on Rachel’s neck “I was kind of hoping I could move in with you. I mean, if you have the space.”

Rachel _beamed_ at her-- another one of those face-splitting smiles. God, how happy that girl looked at the prospect of being around Quinn more. No one in Quinn’s life ever looked that thrilled at the prospect of having her around more, at least not in any sincere or genuine way. Rachel looked sincerely thrilled.

“I’ll always have the space for you. If you lived here, you’d be home by now,” Rachel joked.

“Are you really sure you’re okay with me moving in?” Quinn asked softly.

“Welcome home.”  



	8. Chapter 8

When Shelby was pregnant with Rachel, she could never allow herself to think of a name to call her baby, for fear of attachment. So, she always just addressed the child growing inside of her as ‘baby’ as in ‘baby, stop pressing down on my bladder’ or ‘baby, you’re tickling me from the inside’ or ‘baby, you’re so active today!’ or ‘where are you today, baby?’ There were moments here and there when Rachel would be still for far too long and Shelby would start to worry and inevitably end up annoying some Emergency Room doctor. It got to a point Shelby was sure the baby was either fucking with her on purpose or the baby was somehow deep in thought. Knowing Rachel now, Shelby thought with some amusement that it may have been a mixture of both.

Sometimes the baby irritated the crap out of her, and there were times she regretted coming across that ad. But despite her attempts not to get attached to the baby, she _did_ get attached and even though she never got stuck to any particular name, there were a range of names that she considered and discarded-- Emily, Alice, Lisa, Sarah, Kristina, etc.

She thought of life lessons she wanted to impart to her baby, and so she’d make a mental list, even though she knew she’d never get to teach her daughter the ,p pithings she wanted to teach her.

But even after she walked out of that hospital without the baby and she got on with her life, she continued to construct little life lessons as she went about her day and her life.

Things like:

Dear Baby, always carry an extra tampon, even if you aren’t on your period. (After having her period come a little early one day and being mortified because of it)

Dear Baby, if a man hits you once, he will hit you again. (After ending up in the hospital for the third time in three months, this time with a broken nose, broken wrist and broken ribs.)

Dear Baby, don’t ever cook naked. It’s not as sexy as it sounds, and it’s actually kind of painful. (Self-explanatory)

Dear Baby, road rage just isn’t worth it. (A truly terrifying confrontation on the side of the freeway with an unhinged motorist with a knife screaming ‘do you want me to cut through that fucking convertible?’)

Dear Baby, don’t ever let anyone convince you otherwise-- Barbra Streisand is a goddess. (Again, self-explanatory)

And so on.

She hated that Rachel would even need to be _told_ about the dangers of a man who hit. She hoped that much would be _obvious_ to Rachel, but it wasn’t obvious to many women. Hell, it hadn’t even been obvious when she was young and stupid.

But the danger Ryan presented seemed to have passed and of course, Shelby was relieved. She didn’t want to abandon Rachel again, but it seemed like Rachel was oblivious to the danger Ryan Shaw posed. Beth was getting so attached to Rachel, and while Shelby accepted she couldn’t save Rachel, she wanted to spare Beth pain and so she’d been prepared to cut off contact with Rachel if Rachel didn’t cut off contact with Ryan after that incident at Rachel’s apartment. Truth be told, Shelby was still furious Beth had to witness all that-- her little daughter was chipper and happy, but she’d been fearful and worried for weeks after Shelby took her home.

“Rachel lied to me,” Beth said looking betrayed and worried. “They weren’t in a play. He’s _mean_. He _screamed_ at her.”

“I know, baby,” Shelby soothed. “But she won’t be his friend anymore.”

It’d taken hours for Beth to calm down that night, and it only made a case of the flu even worse.

Shelby had been ready to turn Rachel away, because _damned_ if she and Beth were going to be the helpless witnesses to Rachel throwing her life away for some _boy_. She’d been so ready, despite the fact that she knew it would be so much harder to walk away again. She just couldn’t do it to Beth. She could possibly do it to herself, but she couldn’t do it to Beth. She was extremely relieved that Rachel came to her senses.

“I promise you I won’t ever see him again,” Rachel promised when they walked away together after leaving the court house when Rachel filed the permanent restraining order. Shelby had taken another day off work to make sure Rachel filed the permanent one to replace the temporary one. “He’s out of my life.” Then Rachel hesitantly reached out, took Shelby’s hand and gently squeezed it. She smiled at Shelby. “Cross my heart,” Rachel said solemnly although with a small crooked smile with her head slightly bent the same way she did with Beth.

Shelby swallowed hard at the sight and nodded. “Men who hit aren’t worth it, even when you think they are, sweetheart.”

Rachel gave a slight nod and didn’t respond. She didn’t even lash out at the endearment like Shelby thought she would. She hadn’t intended to do it-- Rachel was very clear that while she considered Beth to be her little sister, Rachel did not consider her to be a mother. Shelby could respect that. It just slipped out, she just wanted _one_ time she could feel like an actual mother to her older daughter.

She bought Rachel a cup of coffee afterward and they went back to Shelby’s apartment where she quietly, haltingly told Rachel the story of her relationship with her own Ryan Shaw.

“That’s the thing with men like that, sweetheart. Their names change, but they’re always the same.”

Rachel nodded solemnly, but Shelby could tell Rachel was a little dismissive, probably thinking Shelby was being too cliché or melodramatic. Shelby could concede she probably was, but she’d been with more than one man who hit, and though they were wildly different from one another outwardly, ultimately they’d been exactly the same. Sometimes the cliché was true for a reason.

Afterward, Rachel gave her a quick hug.

“I promise,” Rachel said sincerely. “I’ll stay away from him. I wouldn’t ever put Beth in that position again.”

“All right,” Shelby said softly.

Then they went to pick Beth up from school. It’d been several weeks from the incident, and Beth eyed Rachel with some lingering hurt and suspicion before throwing herself at Rachel.

“Rachel!”

Rachel laughed and maneuvered Beth onto her back and piggy-backed her little sister all the way back to the apartment and stayed for dinner. Shelby watched as Rachel indulged Beth and the two dueled with breadsticks.

She wished she could have found a way to keep Rachel, because she knew it could have been so much better than this. It could be better than this, but Shelby knew she couldn’t ask for more and at least she’d been able to hold her daughter’s hand through court.

\--

She was a part of Rachel’s life, at least as much as Rachel allowed her to be. They talked weekly, because Beth often got the urge to call Rachel and Rachel was always glad to hear from her.

But sometimes they called one another just to talk to each other and Rachel informed her of some new play or audition or whatever and of course, Shelby could not contain the swelling of maternal pride. She was a part of Rachel’s life now and so, the little life lessons started taking up residence in her head again. She didn’t offer them unless they seemed appropriate-- most of the time they weren’t. But sometimes she had something worthwhile to offer about the auditioning process or some such thing and Rachel always appreciated that.

\--

Rachel was tight-lipped about her romantic life, which Shelby thought was normal. She remembered herself at Rachel’s age. Her mother had known _nothing_.

But it became blatantly obvious when Rachel started dating Quinn Fabray again. Starting with the two of them pitching in together to purchase an extravagant gift for Beth’s eighth birthday. But really, it became impossible to ignore when Rachel started bringing Quinn along to lunches and dinners that she previously attended alone.

“Are we still meeting for dinner?” Shelby asked one day.

“Yes,” Rachel said. “But Quinn is coming as well.”

“Beth will be happy to see her,” Shelby said, shrugging.

But it was when they met at the restaurant that night and Shelby saw the way Rachel looked at Quinn that it was painfully, blatantly obvious that Rachel was in love. That was the first time Rachel started bringing Quinn along to get-togethers that she used to attend alone, and at first, Shelby thought maybe Rachel was using Quinn as a buffer. But it was hard to ignore the starry-eyed looks her painfully open daughter cast at a blonde who was painfully _un_ open.

\--

Rachel seemed happy to date Quinn, and while lessons from mothers warning their daughters about men who hit were pretty standard and obvious, lessons about being a little too open about being into someone seemed less obvious but no less important.

Rachel’s feelings were always too close to the surface and her feelings for Quinn were obvious and apparent, even when she was trying to be subtle and discreet. And while Quinn was definitely fond of Rachel, it was apparent to Shelby that Rachel was clearly in love and Quinn’s feelings were more ambivalent.

Shelby wished she had the sort of relationship with Rachel where she could talk to her about being careful with her heart by showing it off less but doing it in a way that didn’t play games. But that was the sort of walk someone had to learn on their own, and the line was different for everyone. Still, Shelby wished she could tell Rachel the smitten, moon-eyed gazes and the gentle nudges and murmured “I love you”s were probably a little too much, a little too quickly toward a blonde who shifted awkwardly and smiled without saying ‘I love you’ back.

She tried to bring it up just once-- gently pulling Rachel aside at a random get-together to inquire about the state of Rachel’s relationship with Quinn.

“We’re very good. Great, in fact,” Rachel said with an easy smile.

“That’s wonderful,” Shelby told her sincerely. “But perhaps you two should take a step back and slow things down, Rachel. The two of you are much less likely to get hurt that way. There’s nothing wrong with taking things slowly. Slow and steady wins the race,” Shelby said lightly, because she was reading Aesop with Beth at night during that time.

Rachel’s back straightened and her lips tensed into a hard line for a moment before Rachel forced herself to relax.

“Well,” Rachel said tightly. “I suppose it’s a good thing that my relationships don’t really have bearing on your life, isn’t it?”

It was like that with Rachel-- sometimes Rachel was sunny and warm, other times she was steely and rejecting. At least with her. With Beth, Rachel was always sweet and effusive and it was clear the adoration between the two of them was mutual. Shelby was glad for it, but she wished her own relationship with Rachel wasn’t filled with the constant ebb and flow. It was always one step forward, two steps back with Rachel.

Rachel and Quinn had individually become fixtures in her life, but once they began dating again, Shelby really couldn’t think of one without thinking of the either. She’d come to care for them both deeply, but she wasn’t deluded enough to think either of them would want to relate to her if not for Beth. Still, she’d come to think of all of them as her girls, even Quinn and consequently, she’d inwardly designated them as “the little one” (Beth), “the middle one” (Rachel) and “the big one” (Quinn) as in “the little one and the middle one are driving me crazy today.”

She worried about Rachel because she knew what kind of person Rachel was-- she threw her heart into everything and never did anything by halves. She was meticulous planner, but simultaneously passionate and would throw away a well-laid plan because she’d let passion outrun good sense. She was the sort of person who would be surprised by heartbreak everyone else saw coming a mile away. Quinn was just as careful, but far more withholding and well… movies, songs and books were littered with stories of hearts broken by beautiful, withholding blondes who loved, but just not enough. Shelby didn’t want Rachel to end up one of those stories.

\--

Shelby was happy, of course, for Quinn’s influence on Rachel’s life, because Quinn was just as adamant that Rachel keep Ryan out of her life as Shelby herself was. And it was definitely Quinn’s influence that prompted Rachel to enforce the restraining order by reporting Ryan for violating it. He got off with a warning the first few times, but after repeated violations, he finally got arrested for it. Shelby could rest easier while he was incarcerated.

So she was glad Quinn was in Rachel’s life, but she couldn’t help worrying about it, too, because Shelby wasn’t sure what was going on in their relationship and she just felt like Rachel was the vulnerable one. She just didn’t _want_ hey baby to be the vulnerable one. No mother wanted their kid to be the vulnerable one in the relationship because no parent wanted their child to be in pain.

One night, she met Rachel and Quinn for dinner, and one of Rachel’s costars, Dylan, came along. The play was kid-friendly (mostly) and Beth was enraptured by it to the point Shelby had taken Beth to see it four times already. Of course it was gratifying to see Rachel achieve the success she never could-- barely in her 20s and Rachel was already starring on Broadway. It was amazing. But Shelby felt a little discomfort at the way Quinn possessively put her arm around Rachel’s shoulder and pulled Rachel closer after Dylan impetuously kissed Rachel on the top of the head after he excused himself to use the bathroom.

Rachel’s eyes followed Dylan for a moment as he walked away from the table, so she’d completely missed the look of dark fury in Quinn’s eyes when Dylan kissed Rachel. Or the way Quinn eyed Rachel with a look of furious resentment before Rachel turned back to look at Quinn with a dazzling smile of blind adoration.

“I’m going to the bar to get a drink, the service here is really slow. Can I get you anything?”

Quinn shook her head. “No, thanks. But hurry back, okay?”

Rachel smiled impishly. “Why? Will you miss me?”

Quinn didn’t respond. Instead, she grabbed Rachel by the front of her shirt and pulled her in close and pressed a brief, but clearly heated kiss to Rachel’s lips. “Hurry back.”

Rachel nodded dumbly and came back a few minutes later. Dylan had already returned to the table by then, and once Rachel sat down, Quinn wrapped her arm possessively around Rachel.

It was clear Quinn had the upper hand. She wanted to pull Quinn aside and plead ‘be careful with my daughter’ because Shelby could see fragility in Rachel she’d been unwilling or unable to see when Rachel was fifteen. Rachel was twenty four now, and honestly not that different as far as Shelby could see. She wanted to plead with Quinn to be careful with Rachel, but Shelby knew that would only backfire on her

\--

Then Quinn moved in and Rachel seemed _elated_. Shelby was happy for Rachel, but she couldn’t help continue to worry Rachel needed to be a little more careful with her heart. Quinn seemed more jealous and suspicious than in love. Quinn seemed more motivated by keeping Dylan away from Rachel than she did staying close to her. Shelby didn’t think there was any malice there--just maybe a little youthful thoughtlessness, but she couldn’t help worry Quinn would break Rachel’s heart.

\--

Once Rachel’s play ended its run, it was time for her to seek out new ventures. She auditioned for a guest spot on a TV show and got the part and Shelby TiVo’d the episode the night it aired and watched with giddy anticipation. She was so proud.

The show offered to extend Rachel’s two episode guest spot to a nine episode arc based on her popularity with viewers.

Rachel called her to ask her advice before taking it.

“Do you think I should?” Rachel asked. “It’s TV, not Broadway and Broadway is where my aspirations lie. It’s truly where my heart is, but I would love to have more widespread appeal.”

Shelby didn’t want to sway Rachel in one direction or another because there was a chance it could backfire and her relationship with Rachel was not at a stage where it could survive a setback like that.

“I think,” Shelby said carefully. “You should do what you feel is best. You’re young and your career is building. Do you think you can afford the time away from auditioning to film this role?”

Rachel laughed dryly. “I think,” she said wryly. “I need to think about the very real necessity of paying my rent,” she said dryly. “Your usage of the word ‘afford’ reminded me of that.”

Shelby laughed. “That, too.”

She knew Rachel was financially stable, but like all young people living in New York City who didn’t have a trust fund to fall back on, it just felt safer to build a financial cushion to fall back on-- just in case.

Rachel took the role and it garnered her immediate attention. _TVGuide_ lauded the decision to expand Rachel’s role as a ‘cheer’ and ‘jeered’ the producers for not offering her a regular role already. Rachel was thrilled, and of course, when a person was happy, it made it easier for everything else in their live to improve. With Rachel’s success, Shelby definitely saw an improvement in their relationship and Shelby was eager to take advantage while she could. Rachel was easier to talk to, she seemed less-defended, more willing to share her life.

She and Rachel became even closer-- for whatever reason, she’d been sure the newfound fame and success would drive Rachel away considering all the clichés of what Hollywood fame did to a person’s old life. But it didn’t work that way with Rachel, not that Shelby should have been surprised. She and Rachel became closer, which made Shelby privy to the fact Rachel’s success made Quinn anxious. The blonde was clearly happy for Rachel, but it was clear to Shelby it made Quinn anxious, but Rachel seemed either unwilling or unable to see this.

Shelby didn’t understand Quinn. Sometimes the blonde was downright standoffish to Rachel and other times, she was almost frightening possessive to a point where Shelby tried to think of a polite way to warn Rachel about the dangers of a possessive partner. Except Shelby couldn’t really look at Quinn as dangerous so much as desperate, because she remembered men who slipped away from her when she wanted to hold on. She could remember wanting to hold on, _trying_ desperately to hold on and how pointless that all was because the men ended up leaving anyway. Shelby was confused as hell as to who would be doing the leaving when it came to Quinn and Rachel, but she sensed Quinn thought it would be Rachel and Rachel thought it would be Quinn, which was pretty ridiculous when Shelby contemplated and worried about it. But Shelby could remember many of her relationships during her 20s having that exact sort of confusion. She looked back on it now and laughed about the ridiculousness, but back then, it’d broken her heart.

So one night, she called her daughter up for dinner, dropped Beth off with the babysitter and gently told Rachel to be a little more attentive to her girlfriend, because it was very plain to Shelby this was a relationship Rachel wanted to keep. But Rachel was young and occasionally oblivious and part of the joy of being a mother, even one who was not really recognized as a mother, was to give unsolicited advice.

“She hasn’t deemed herself my girlfriend,” Rachel said blankly. “I’m not even sure she wants to be,” she admitted. “We never had a discussion about being exclusive, but I think I made my stance very clear. I love her.”

“Rachel, you live together. The girlfriend and exclusivity is implied,” Shelby said gently. “Or at least, it should be.” Shelby did _not_ want to meddle because it could only garner resentment. But she thought this was the nudge those two needed in the right direction, because either way, both Rachel and Quinn needed some clarity. Neither of them were close to the parents who raised them, and she just kind of felt responsible for them. She didn’t want to meddle, but she wanted to guide both of them in the right direction because she really wanted to spare both of them pain, particularly Rachel.

Rachel gave Shelby a small smile. “You can’t really tell with Quinn.” She sighed. “I appreciate the advice, but it’s really none of your business, okay? I can handle my relationship with Quinn without any outside advice,” Rachel said quietly. “

“All right,” Shelby said softly, and she tried not to let it sting, but it did.

\--

It was a few days later when she received a text message from Quinn in the middle of her free period.

It was simple.

 _Thank you_.

It puzzled her and she started to type out a ‘for w hat?’ but then she was interrupted by the principal who wanted to harangue her about not turning in her lesson plans on time again that week (the school leadership had no imagination) and she set her phone away.

She remembered the text toward the end of the day when she got another one, this time from Rachel.

_I took your advice and talked to Quinn. You were right. Our relationship is very clearly delineated now. Thank you. Dinner next week?_

Shelby released a tiny sigh. It felt like a huge victory and it was one of the few moments in which she actually got to feel like Rachel’s mom and not just her mother.

 _Whenever you’re available_ , Shelby texted back.


	9. Chapter 9

There wasn’t much more in life Rachel wanted. Her career was building gradually, but each new role was bigger, each play was better and each review was more glowing. She went from a shitty off-Broadway play, to a slightly less shitty off-Broadway play to a supporting role in a decent Broadway play to a starring role in a well-known Broadway play. And then it went to a well-received guest run on a successful TV show. What more could she ask for? People who used to torment her in high school were finding her on Facebook, but she declined their friend requests, because….well, fuck them. A lot of the former glee kids were requesting her as well, and those were the ones which gave her pause because they generally didn’t outright torment her like Karofsky and Azimo did, but they were pretty shitty to her in other ways. She always declined them. She didn’t care if this made her look like a jerk, either. She was very happy with her life and content with the trusted circle of people she built for herself. She wasn’t looking to expand, especially not for people who suddenly wanted to talk to her because she was stalked by the paparazzi now. She’d _always_ believed she would be, so she didn’t see why they couldn’t have been friends with her in high school instead of waiting until now.

Despite appearances to the contrary, Rachel really had very simple needs. Granted with a bigger paycheck came bigger desires, but ultimately, Rachel considered herself to be fairly simple. Sure, she insisted upon bedsheets with a ridiculously high threadcount and did all kinds of research on it before buying sheet sets that were sumptuously soft. Granted she was still high-maintenance-- she liked what she liked and wanted what she wanted. She demanded excellence because she tried to give excellence.

But when it came down to what she really needed-- the basic nitty gritty details of her life, her needs were very simple and she was happy with just getting what she needed and not necessarily what she wanted.

She was happy with her life because she‘d earned success in her chosen profession and, for the first time in her life, she was surrounded by people who genuinely liked and loved her. She was in a committed relationship with a woman who often perplexed her, but Rachel knew Quinn loved her, even if the blonde rarely said it out loud. She had a pretty good relationship with her parents, and they seemed to have worked through their animosity enough to the point where they weren’t bad-mouthing one another when she talked to them. It’d always been very painful to her when her parents were mean to one another. Granted it wasn’t perfect-- she still had a lot of issues with Daddy’s betrayal of never mentioning the family he had before theirs and now that he’d gone back to them, she was hurt by his need to keep her separate from them. Likewise with Dad and his new family. But at the same time, she knew she had a part in that, too, because even now, she didn’t particularly want to go to them-- she wanted them to come to her. But she thought the situation with her fathers would eventually resolve itself, because her relationship with them was actually better than it had been since she was maybe eleven years old. She had kind castmates whom she considered friends, great friends whom she considered family. She had a little sister and a biological mother she was slowly looking at as a friend. It was probably too late for her to ever have a mother-daughter relationship with Shelby and while Rachel sometimes longed for a mother, she knew Shelby just wasn’t it. But at least they could be friends.

So, that was it. That was her life right there-- good family, good friends, good job, good girlfriend. Everything else-- the 1000 threadcount sheets, the expensive furniture, the weekly facials and mani/pedis were just icing on the proverbial cake.

If Rachel were asked to honestly rate her life, she would deem it ‘great.’ She had her fair share of problems, but nothing she couldn’t weather through.

Still, if she had to be honest with herself, her relationship with Quinn brought her the most amount of stress, but only because it was the only thing in her life she was uncertain of.

She thought it was kind of stupid of herself, so she could never bring herself to really talk about it with Quinn. At least, other than when she asked Quinn if they were committed or _what_. It seemed blatantly obvious at the time because they were living together at Quinn’s behest, but Rachel got the sense Quinn wanted to live together but not be fully committed. So Rachel never pushed the issue because she didn’t want to ruin things by overtalking or overanalyzing like she did everything else.

But apparently Quinn did want to be committed to her, and so now they were exclusive and living together and practically married, what with the arguments about who forgot to pick up dry cleaning and who forgot to pay the electric bill and such.

It was disgustingly domestic, and Rachel knew there were people her age who wanted to sleep around and stay out all night. But she wasn’t one of them-- Rachel had always been something of a serial monogamist. She really loved being in a relationship and she saw nothing wrong with that. She loved Quinn to the exclusion of all others, so why shouldn’t she date Quinn exclusively? And sure, sometimes her friends will ask her to go out, but Quinn will want to stay in and she’ll get mocked for being whipped, but she kind of was, so what was the big deal? Besides, even if they were dating long enough that they were definitely past the honeymoon phase, the relationship was still new enough that there was no one Rachel would rather spend time with than Quinn.

She couldn’t remember ever being this happy before and she wasn’t going to screw it up by questioning anything like “do you really love me?” when Quinn _told_ her ‘I love you’ and she wasn’t going to ask “do you actually want to be with me?” when Quinn was the one who asked to move in. She wasn’t sure how Quinn felt for her-- sometimes, Quinn’s feelings for her seemed ambivalent at best. But most of the time, things were good Rachel just didn’t want to break the spell with her own stupid insecurities.

\--

Rachel was in between projects at the moment, and so she was still sleeping when Quinn came out of the shower on a Monday morning.

_Drip drip drip_

Rachel groaned and curled away from her girlfriend. “Sadist.”

She loved the kiss to her mouth, but she did not appreciate the dripping water on her face. Once she was turned away, she rubbed her face on the pillow to get the water off.

Rachel was huddled under the blankets and Quinn lightly smacked Rachel where the blonde thought Rachel’s butt would be. “I’m the one who has to go to work,” Quinn said, the pout evident in her voice.

Rachel kept her eyes closed. “You could always take the day off and spend it with me. We could play.”

Quinn laughed. “What would we play?” she asked, sounding amused. She sat down on the bed and her fingers lightly scratched at Rachel’s scalp.

Rachel shrugged and rolled over so she could peer up at Quinn.

Quinn gazed down at her. “Hi,” she said softly.

Rachel smiled. “Hi,” she murmured. She peeked one hand out from under the blankets and reached for Quinn’s hand. “Stay home and play with me!”

“I wish I could,” Quinn said ruefully. “But I have a lot to do and if I took today off, I’d just spend the day worried about everything I have to do tomorrow.” She bent down and kissed Rachel’s earlobe. “Maybe next time?” she whispered.

“Okay,” Rachel said softly. She chuckled. “We can play when you get home.”

Quinn laughed and brushed some hair away from Rachel’s face. “That’s right,” she said with an easy smile. “What do you plan on doing today?”

“Cleaning, mostly.”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “You’re so anal.”

Rachel shrugged. “One of us has to be,” she said teasingly, because of the two of them Quinn was the messy one. Although compared to anyone else, Quinn would be tidy.

“You’re enough for two,” Quinn shot back.

Rachel smirked and reached out to gently squeeze Quinn’s inner thigh, laughing when the blonde released a tiny squeak. “I sure am, baby,” she joked.

Quinn rolled her eyes and smacked Rachel’s hand away. “Do you think you can meet me for lunch?”

“Sure,” Rachel said. “Just call me when you’re hungry.”

“I love it when you’re home,” Quinn confessed, her voice tinged with a little bit of seriousness.

Rachel sat up. “Hm?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Quinn said. “I’m happy for you that you’re so successful.”

“A few plays and a recurring role on a TV show is hardly successful,” Rachel scoffed.

Quinn smiled wryly. “Just admit you’re successful, you know you want to.”

Rachel grinned. “All right, I’m successful.”

Quinn laughed. “See? False modesty doesn’t suit you, baby,” she said, kissing Rachel’s cheek. “I’m glad you’re successful, but it’s hard when you’re gone so long.”

Rachel softened. “I’m not gone that much. So far I haven’t even had to leave New York City for anything. I always try to come home at a decent hour.”

“I know,” Quinn said softly. “And I love that.” She smiled hesitantly. “Promise me you won’t fall in love with one of your costars on your next project?”

Rachel laughed softly. “How could I do that when I’m already in love with you, Quinn? Shall I list the myriad of ways in bullet points? Or would you prefer a sonnet extolling your many virtues. Perhaps I could write you a song? Write a very verbose essay and perhaps employ tautology to highlight how much I love you? I still remember how to use MLA and APA formatting from school. I could get this thing peer-reviewed and published where it will be forever immortalized.”

Quinn chuckled. “You don’t have to be quite so dramatic.” She stood up and stretched. “I should get ready for work. You’re distracting me,” she complained good-naturedly.

But there was something in Quinn’s expression that made Rachel feel like she’d been too effusive, like she made Quinn uncomfortable. Rachel was naturally dramatic and prone to making big, dramatic statements. It was just a part of her personality and while she was always sincere, it wasn’t necessarily a big deal when she spoke like that. She loved Quinn, sure, but she wasn’t going to toss herself in front of train tracks for Quinn either. Jesus, she wasn’t a character on an Asian soap opera, after all.

“Sorry,” Rachel said, she settled back into the bed and shut her eyes. This was the part of Quinn she could never figure out. The constant push and pull. It didn’t make her angry or anything, it just confused her and she wished she had a better sense of where Quinn was coming from. But Quinn wasn’t the kind of person to initiate those kinds of conversations-- she kept things much closer to the vest than Rachel did, and those were just where their naturally personalities were.

She was dozing off when Quinn kissed her before she left for work.

“Don’t stand me up for lunch,” Quinn warned teasingly. “I know how you get wrapped up in projects like trying to retile the bathroom or caulk the bathtub or whatever, but I’m expecting to have lunch with my girlfriend today.”

Rachel smiled lazily. “Ask and ye shall receive,” she said lightly.

Quinn’s laughter was tinkly. “I’m asking.”

\--

Rachel used to be the kind of person who could never enjoy happiness without waiting for the other shoe to drop. Truth be told, she was still that kind of person, but she was trying not to be because she knew it was a waste of time to always worry about tomorrow to the detriment of enjoying today. So, when it came to Quinn, she just tried not to worry, because it was insane not to enjoy the company of a beautiful, intelligent, witty, funny woman who loved her.

\--

The highlight of her mornings were waking up to Quinn, but the best part of her nights were coming home to Quinn. Regardless of what happened to her during the day-- a bad day of shooting, getting yelled at by the director or snubbed by a series regular because she was just a recurring guest star, nothing was so bad when she came home to Quinn.

She came home after one such day and found Quinn reading in the living room.

“I had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day,” Rachel declared dramatically as she entered the living room. She flopped onto the couch and rested her head on Quinn’s lap. Her lips quirked into a smile when she saw Quinn was reading the latest issue of _Cosmopolitan_. She tried to read the headlines. “’How to Drive Him Crazy in Bed, Twenty Things You Should be Doing in the Bedroom,’” Rachel read with a laugh. “Any helpful hints?”

Quinn snorted and lightly wacked Rachel on the head with the magazine. Quinn chucked the magazine onto the coffee table and ignored the look Rachel cast her because all the other books and magazines were neatly stacked according to size.

“I’m sorry you had terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day,” Quinn said softly with a teasing smile.

Rachel sighed and closed her eyes as Quinn massaged her scalp. “It’s better now that I’m home.”

She had a distant memory of reading _Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day_ with Beth back when she worked at Beth’s school. It’d been one of her favorite books growing up (because her school experiences had been filled with innumerable terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days). The thought of it always cheered her up, because when she was little, she thought moving to Timbuktu would make things better, too.

“Welcome home then, baby.”

Rachel laughed softly.

She must have dozed off because she woke up with her head still in Quinn’s lap. Quinn was dozing as well. Quinn’s hand was still in her hair and Rachel winced slightly when Quinn’s hand pulled at her hair as she tried to extricate herself.

She stood up and wondered if Quinn’s lap was numb.

“Baby,” she whispered, bending down to cup Quinn’s cheek. “Let’s go to bed.”

Quinn’s eyes fluttered open and she gave Rachel a soft smile that made the brunette’s insides quiver. “Okay.”

\--

Everything was very good until their first _real_ fight since getting back together.

\--

It started out innocently enough on a Saturday morning with Quinn practically bouncing into the bedroom, holding up her phone and jumped on the bed where Rachel was reading a script for a new TV show that her agent sent her. She’d finished filming a recurring guest role for a successful TV series called _Snoops_ and there were talks about bringing her back as a series regular for the next season, but Rachel wasn’t sure she wanted to commit to that. She’d be the lead in the script she was reading, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to be a TV actress-- her first love had always been Broadway, after all. But somehow she was quickly building up TV credits, with multiple recurring guest roles, some of which were filmed concurrently. She was busier than ever, but a part of her itched to get back on Broadway.

She was mulling this over when Quinn bounced into the room, jumped on the bed and pulled the script away from Rachel.

“Look!” Quinn said, looking downright excited. “I got an email from Brittany!”

“Britney Spears?” Rachel asked dumbly.

Quinn looked at her witheringly. “Brittany Susan Pierce. Why would Britney _Spears_ email me?”

Rachel shrugged. From what Quinn told her, both scenarios were equally likely considering Brittany Susan Pierce and Quinn Fabray had not been in touch since the end of high school seven years before.

“Well, why would Brittany Susan Pierce email you?” Rachel asked archly.

Quinn rolled her eyes. “Mr. Schuester was offered a deanship at this private school, so he’s leaving McKinley.”

Rachel shrugged. “I fail to see how this warrants as news.”

“Mr. Schue’s current glee team wants to set up this reunion of all the glee kids he’s trained, and they want all of us to go because we were the first ones. It’s next month, right before school gets out.”

Rachel waited patiently to see how this was relevant to her.

Quinn stared at her. “So, let’s book our tickets.”

Rachel scowled. “Why would I go?”

“Because it’s Mr. Schue!”

“Once again, why would I go?”

“I thought you liked Mr. Schuester.”

“I respected Mr. Schuester as a teacher. I didn’t _like_ him as a person.”

“But you had a crush on him!”

“For about three hours. My attention span back then was not what it is now.”

Quinn stared at Rachel. “I thought you would be excited about this.”

“Well, I’m not. You can go, but I’m not going.”

“But I already told Brit that we were in.”

“Well, then _un_ tell her and explain that you don’t speak for both of us.”

“I thought you would be excited. Everyone else is going….”

“I’m not going.”

“Well, why not?”

Rachel’s ire rose. “Are you _seriously_ asking me that question? You really don’t know?”

“Well, why would I ask a question I already knew the answer to?” Quinn bit out.

Rachel bit the inside of her cheek. “High school was not a good experience for me,” she said calmly. “I would think you were aware of that.”

Quinn flinched. “It was a long time ago.”

Rachel nodded in acknowledgement. “Yes, but I don’t wish to return to it.”

“But glee was _good_ for you,” Quinn protested. “You loved it. They were our friends.”

Rachel stared at her. “Do you _seriously_ believe that?”

“They were your friends when it counted,” Quinn said quietly.

Rachel was incredulous. “If you believe that Quinn, then you weren’t paying attention. _None_ of those people were really my friends, especially not when it counted. None of them were even remotely--”

“Kurt,” Quinn cut in. “Kurt was your friend and he’s going to be there.”

“My friendship with Kurt ended badly which leads me to believe we were never truly friends,” Rachel said stiffly. “Those people were _your_ friends, not mine. So I encourage you to go.”

“When those Vocal Adrenaline kids egged you, we all wanted to--”

“That was some team pride, not outrage over _me_. It was perfectly okay for them to use me as their punching bag, but not Vocal Adrenaline. I’m _not_ a punching bag and I never was. They made it _really_ clear to me they only tolerated me for my talent. None of those people ever defended me when I needed it and they were all more than happy to insult me. So really, Quinn. Please explain to me how that constitutes friendship? Because I can think of about a hundred ways off the top of my head that people have been good friends to me, and _none_ of those actions were done by those people you referred to as my friends.”

“High school was a long time ago,” Quinn said weakly.

“And I concede that. Absolutely it was. But frankly, I didn’t like Mr. Schuester enough to want to pay _tribute_ to him as I found his tutelage stifling and in retrospect, insulting. He’s not my teacher anymore and I don’t respect him enough to go back. I don’t want to see anyone enough to go back either.”

“You should put it behind you. You’re too old to think about high school bullying. I mean, are you really not over it? Don’t you think that’s a little lame? You’re almost twenty five and you’re successful, you can go back and rub their faces in it.”

“I don’t _want_ to rub their faces in it. My life isn’t about proving people wrong. I’ve _always_ wanted this for myself. I would have worked this hard even if I’d been on the top of the pyramid with _you_. I’m _happy_ and I don’t see why I need to go back to a place that made me miserable for the entire time I was there. I don’t need to rub anyone’s face in anything because I _like_ my life, Quinn. And only people who aren’t satisfied with their lives feel the need to rub their success in people’s faces.”

“Can’t you do this for me? What are they going to think if you don’t come with me?”

“They’re going to think we’re not conjoined, Quinn. I don’t have to go where you go, just like you don’t have to go where I go.”

“You were the glee captain, you _have_ to be there.”

Rachel snorted. “None of them wanted me around back then, so why would they want me now? And really, why do I _have_ to go? Is my life dependent on it?”

Quinn was clearly getting impatient with her sarcasm, but Rachel didn’t care because she was upset with Quinn for telling Brittany they were both ‘in,’ without talking to her first.

“They’re going to think you’re a snob.”

“Let them. They probably already think that when I reject their friend requests on Facebook.”

“Just come back with me!” Quinn exclaimed. “God, it was just high school! Can’t you just get over it? You’re being selfish, stupid and _lame_. You’re almost twenty five and you have everything you want. Stop being so pathetic about _high school_ and just come back with me. We can both see our parents while we’re there, too.”

Rachel clenched her jaw, wishing Quinn would just understand she was stirring up some very unpleasant feelings-- the subject of high school made her a little sad ,but the subject of her family made her feel raw.

She stood up and couldn’t really look at Quinn. “You made me cry almost every school day from the first day of fourth grade when you called my fathers faggots to the last day of high school when you Slushied me,” Rachel said quietly. The only days Quinn didn’t make her cry was during the good days of their brief high school fling. “I know high school was a long time ago, and I’m _over_ it. But that doesn’t mean I want to go back to it to be with people I wished would be my friends but made it very clear they didn’t like me. I really wish you would understand that, but of course, you would have no frame of reference for having _no_ friends in high school, would you? I really wish you would respect me enough to stop pushing me when I said no. And I really wish you’d love me enough to stop trying to manipulate me into changing my mind by yelling that I’m selfish, stupid, lame and pathetic, because while I am going to assume you said those things in the heat of the moment, I can’t help wonder if that’s how you really look at me. But since I can’t have those things, I’m going to make this very clear: there is no way in hell I am going back to a town that treated me like shit, to pay tribute to a teacher who rolled his eyes at me every time I opened my mouth unless I was coming to his defense about lame lessons plans, and to teammates who treated me like a punching bag. I am _not_ going back to see my fathers so they can get into another argument and blame each other about why I don’t come home more. Not that either of them would care considering they both have new families now whom they don’t want to introduce me to,” Rachel said bitterly. “So, in sum. I. Am. Not. Going.”

Quinn stared at Rachel for a long moment and in pure frustration, Rachel grabbed her purse and left the apartment.

\--

Rachel walked a few blocks to her friend, Lindsay’s apartment. She’d known Lindsay since freshman year at NYU, back when Lindsay was known as “Lindsay from Portland” because there was another Lindsay in the group and she was a native of New York. Back then, she’d been known as “Rachel from Ohio” simply because for whatever reason, people thought it was hilarious she was from Ohio. (“Hey, Rachel! What’s round at the ends and high in the middle? OHIOOOOO!” was a common greeting to her during her early NYU days.)

Lindsay was the sort of mellow friend you could be out of touch with for _months_ , even years and then show up unannounced at her door on a Saturday morning on the verge of tears and all she would do was invite you in and offer you a beer.

“It’s a little early for beer, isn’t it?” Rachel said with a tiny laugh, wiping at her eyes. It was only ten am after all.

“It’s never too early for beer. But want a Bloody Mary or mimosa instead? Those are breakfast.”

“No thanks. When in Rome,” Rachel said, reaching for the mostly full beer that Lindsay was already drinking and taking a deep swig.

Lindsay went to the kitchen to get herself a fresh beer.

“Problems with the little missus, eh?” Lindsay asked when she sat down next to Rachel, holding a fresh beer.

“I guess you could say that.”

“Want to key her car?”

“She doesn’t have one.”

“Want to vandalize her apartment?”

“We live together, remember?”

Lindsay gave her a smile that clearly indicated she did. “Well, then,” she said gently. “I guess you have no other choice than to be a grownup and talk to her,” she said gesturing to Rachel’s purse where her phone was beeping again to announce another text message.

“Not right now,” Rachel said quietly. “I’m very mad at this moment.”

Lindsay regarded her silently for a moment. “Uh…need a hug?”

Rachel smiled wryly. “No.”

Lindsay breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

Rachel snorted in derision. “Well, you don’t have to sound quite so _relieved_.”

Lindsay grinned at her. “C’mere, you,” she said, wrapping one arm around Rachel and pulling her in.

Rachel sighed and rested her head against Lindsay’s shoulder. “You have good taste in beer.”

“I have good taste in everything.”

“Your favorite song is ‘Whip It’ by Devo,” Rachel said wryly. “You just proved yourself wrong.”

“Music snob,” Lindsay teased.

Rachel chuckled, but her spirits quickly deflated.

“Aw, Rachel,” Lindsay said softly. “Over a girl?”

Rachel wiped at her eyes. “Like some girl has never made you sad.”

“No,” Lindsay said. “It’s one of the benefits of being straight. I really don’t appreciate your gay-centric world view,” she joked. “You people think everyone is gay. Who are you going to tell me is gay next? Oscar Wilde? Ellen DeGeneres?”

Rachel snorted. “I’ll give you Oscar, but Ellen has bicurious shoes.”

Lindsay laughed. “God, that episode of _30 Rock_ was hilarious.”

“I know, right?”

Lindsay patted Rachel’s arm. “You tell your old ball and chain that if she hurts you again, I’m gonna punch her heart out.”

Rachel laughed quietly. “It was just a fight.”

“Well, then you can hang out here with me until the heat dies down. Unless you think she’s going to send the fuzz after you.”

Rachel snorted. “Thanks.”

A couple hours passed when her phone went off again. This time, Rachel was ready to check her phone.

_Please come home. I’m sorry._

Rachel sighed and stood up, feeling a little buzzed from the beers she drank, but she was otherwise okay. She could walk home.

“You heading out?”

“Yes.”

“You good?”

“ Yes.

“All right, girl. Text me when you get home.”

“Thank you, Lindsay from Portland,” Rachel said sincerely.

“You’re welcome. Anytime, Rach.”

Just as Rachel was about to exit the apartment, Lindsay yelled “Hey Rachel! What’s round at the ends and high in the middle? Ohiooooo!”

Rachel rolled her eyes as Lindsay burst into laughter, but she couldn’t help chuckling.

“Bye, Lind.”

\--

Quinn was sitting in the living room, waiting for her when she got home. The second the blonde heard the key turning in the door, she ran toward it, pulling Rachel inside.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn whispered, crushing their bodies together in a tight hug. “I was a jerk. I’m so sorry. I won’t go either. You’re my _girlfriend_. I’m on your side. Screw those people. I’m not going either.”

Rachel stroked her hair. “I want you to go. You want to see them. It’ll be good for you. You can reconnect with…whoever you want to reconnect with.”

Rachel knew Quinn wished she were still in touch with Santana, Brittany and Mercedes. The glee reunion would be good for Quinn and Rachel didn’t begrudge her that. She just didn’t want to go, but that didn’t mean Quinn shouldn’t.

“But--”

“We aren’t conjoined,” Rachel joked tenderly, stroking Quinn’s face and kissing away the tears she found there. “Go, be with your friends. I’ll find a way to entertain myself.”

“It’s only for four days and three nights,” Quinn said softly.

“See? I can survive four days and three nights without you. I promise not to burn anything down, baby.”

Quinn laughed softly, but she quickly became somber again. “Those things you said--”

“I was angry, I didn’t mean them.”

“I didn’t mean what I said either,” Quinn said quietly. “You have every right not to want to go back. You’re right, they were awful to you. I’m sorry for being a jerk to you about it. But what you said about me not understanding you or respecting you or loving you enough…did you--”

“I didn’t mean it,” Rachel said softly, averting her eyes, because really deep down, she kind of did. But she thought now was the wrong time to bring it up. Right now, Quinn needed reassuring and Rachel wanted to do that for her.

“Good,” Quinn sighed, relieved. “Because I do love you, Rachel.”

“I know,” Rachel said softly, it was just that she was never sure how much. She tried to tell herself quantity was irrelevant, it was more important Quinn just loved her. But she couldn’t help wonder, and she couldn’t help think it really was relevant.

\--

They made up and everything went back to normal and everything was good again because it was only a fight and a relationship needed to survive a fight in order for it to survive anything else. Rachel wanted her relationship with Quinn to be the kind to weather through anything.

\--

A month passed quickly and Rachel went with Quinn to the airport on a Friday morning to see her off. She was filming a guest spot for a TV show which fell into her lap rather suddenly since the original person they wanted fell ill or whatever. Rachel was glad for it because now if anyone asked Quinn about her absence, the blonde could always say she was filming and it would be true.

\--

She spent Friday night, Saturday night, Sunday night alone in a bed that felt too large, which was strange because when she bought it, it felt like the perfect size for sleeping alone. She remembered thinking she could stretch out in the middle of it as far as she could and she’d still have plenty of space. Now, it felt too big without Quinn and it sort of made her pout because she didn’t want to be the kind of person who couldn’t spend a few nights alone.

Quinn was going to work straight from the airport on Monday morning and Rachel had to be on set extra early, so she wouldn’t get to see Quinn until Monday evening. This made her profoundly disappointed, for which she was profoundly embarrassed for herself, except not really, because hell, she was in love and why should she be embarrassed about that?

She was excited all day on the set, but she tried to be as perfect as possible because she hoped they would wrap early and she could go home sooner.

She stopped off to get some take-out and flowers on her way home. She opened the door and was pleased to see Quinn was already home. She’d contemplated the possibility Quinn would stay late to catch up on work. She’d sent Quinn a text to ask about that, but got nothing in response, so she just risked it and bought some food that would still be good if it had to be reheated.

“Hi, baby,” she greeted, setting the food, still in its paper bag, on the table. “Welcome home!”

“Hi, baby,” Quinn said quietly.

Rachel looked at her.

Quinn’s eyes were swollen and bloodshot. She looked like she’d been crying for hours.

“What’s wrong? Are you sick?” Rachel asked, placing the bouquet of flowers on the table and rushing to Quinn’s side. She put her hand on Quinn’s forehead, it felt hot to the touch. Quinn sighed softly and pressed into her hand. “Did you get a cold from the airplane?” Rachel asked sympathetically. That was one of the reasons she hated to fly.”Come on, let’s get you into bed.”

“I’m not sick,” Quinn said quietly. “Rachel…I have to tell you something.”

Quinn pulled Rachel’s hands into her own.

“I did something really bad.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow and sat down on the couch next to Quinn. “Like something we need to get legal counsel for?” she asked. She couldn’t picture Quinn doing anything like that, but she couldn’t picture Quinn doing anything so wrong that she would be this distraught.

Quinn laughed softly. “No,” she said. “I wish…” she said, her voice wavering.

Rachel cupped the sides of Quinn’s face. “You couldn’t have done anything that bad. Was it something to do with work?”

Quinn shook her head. “Rachel, I did something _really_ bad.”

“What did you do?” Rachel asked softly, brushing away Quinn’s falling tears with the pads of her thumbs. “If it’s nothing to do with work and it’s nothing we need to seek legal counsel for, then it can’t be that bad, sweetheart.”

“You’re going to hate me when I tell you.”

Rachel swallowed hard and immediately she had an inkling of what Quinn was going to tell her. She pulled her hands away from Quinn and put them in her lap. She couldn’t look at Quinn anymore and she stared down at her hands.

“No.”

“Please don’t hate me,” Quinn begged. “I was so stupid. I was questioning us and--”

“No,” Rachel whispered.

“Everything between us happened so fast and I just…I was confused and I had all these doubts and I was so _stupid_ and--”

“Please stop talking,” Rachel begged. “Just stop. Stop. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to know. Just stop. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. Whatever it is, we’ll just pretend like it never happened. Don’t say it. Please don’t say--”

“It was so stupid, but you _have_ to believe me, I love you. I love you so much. And it will _never_ happen again. God, Rachel, please just _look_ at me again.”

But Rachel couldn’t look at her. Rachel shut her eyes and covered her ears with both hands, wishing that if she couldn’t hear and see Quinn, then Quinn couldn’t hear and see her to tell her this awful thing Quinn was building up to. It was a classic childish belief-- _if I can’t see you, you can’t see me_. God, Rachel just wished that logic were true. ‘Please God, if I can’t see her, she can’t see me and she can’t tell me this. Please God.’ Rachel gripped her head and repeated it inwardly over and over again, but it was like Quinn was shouting, because her voice was just so clear even over all of it.

“I’m so sorry,” Quinn sobbed. “I’m so sorry. You have to believe me. I love you. I love you so much, Rachel.”

Rachel squeezed her eyes even tighter and pressed her hands over her ears as hard as she could. She began rocking herself in place hoping she it would all just go away. No. No. No. _Please_. No.

But she still couldn’t drown out Quinn’s confession.

“I slept with Puck.”

She was such a cliché, coming home to a girl she loved with food and flowers hoping for a nice reunion and hearing this. The only thing that would make it even more cliché is if she caught them _in flagrante delicto_ in the bed. She almost wished that were the case because seeing it with her own eyes would make this whole thing more believable.

But then again, it was just beyond belief.


	10. Chapter 10

Quinn wished she understood how she got herself into this mess. She wished she’d never gone to that fucking glee reunion which was a complete waste of time as far as she could see. Everyone was all grown up, but something about being back together again made them revert back to their high school selves. Kurt was as catty as ever, except now it wasn’t mean-spirited or cutting, it was more self-deprecating or genuinely funny. But other than him, Mike and Puck, everyone else just seemed to revert back to high school and Quinn wished she’d never bothered.

It started with Santana asking her where Rachel was, and there was just a hint of a smirk there, but it could have been passed off as curiosity. Then Artie made a comment about how Rachel was probably too busy to clear out her surprisingly filled schedule and everyone shared a laugh. It was still good-natured. Then Mercedes made a comment about how Rachel always thought she was too good for them, so it should be no surprise the ‘diva’ thought she was too good for them now and the bad-mouthing and putdowns just kind of took off from there-- even though they all knew Quinn was dating Rachel, that they were _living_ together.

Puck looked at her like he was expecting her to defend Rachel and when she didn’t, he spoke up.

“She’s filming right now, remember?” he said a little crankily.

Then Mr. Schuester voiced irritation rather than disappointment Rachel didn’t show up and Quinn got a really good look at what Rachel meant when she said those people weren’t her friends.

She was ashamed of herself for being twenty-five years old and not defending her girlfriend when so many people were trash-talking her like one of those awful celebrity blogs that slammed people for no good reason. But she’d fallen in line into her high school persona as well, because back then, even though she’d managed to be the head of the flock, she still ran with the rest of the sheep. She knew she was too damn old to act like a teenager, but she did it anyway and she was ashamed of herself for it.

She’d been upset by what the others were saying about Rachel-- all the little comments and digs, the bitchy questions they asked her about Rachel masquerading as a joke ‘does she still wear those fugly animal sweaters, Quinn?’ or ‘does she wear argyle to bed’ or ‘does she shower in an argyle bathing suit?’ or ‘does she sing scales when you’re having sex?’ There were little digs at Rachel’s mental health, which okay, wasn’t exactly Rachel’s strong suit, but Quinn hated the way they made Rachel out to be a crazy person. ‘Do you sleep with one eye open?’

She just wanted to get home to Rachel. She felt awful for laughing along with the rest of them and not defending her girl like she should have. She knew all Rachel wanted was someone to defend her once in a while, and Quinn felt terrible she’d failed so spectacularly at that. She knew, of course, if Rachel had gone with her, she would have defended Rachel mightily because Rachel would have been right there. But without Rachel’s presence…well, it was just easier not to say anything and to go along with it. And Quinn was so angry at herself for going along with it like she was some fucking teenager or something.

She was drowning her sorrows at the hotel bar on Saturday when Puck sidled up to her. She declined the invite from the others to get together at Matt’s childhood home for dinner and beer. She just didn’t want to be around those people.

“Hey,” he greeted. Evidently, he declined, too.

“Hey.”

“You’re a dick,” he announced as he sat next to her.

“Excuse me?” Quinn asked, offended.

“Berry would have rained down shit on them if they talked about you the way they talked about her.”

Quinn opened her mouth to snap at him, but she deflated because she knew he was right. “I know,” she said quietly.  
  
They drank steadily over the next couple of hours, mostly in silence although they each pulled out their phones and showed one another pictures of Beth that Shelby sent them. Quinn had entire albums of pictures of Beth from the time she got to spend with her.

“You’re lucky you live so close to her,” Puck said wistfully.

“You can always move out here.”

“I got a life in ‘Frisco, Q.”

“I know.”

They got nostalgic and sad over Beth and Quinn was upset and sad over Rachel. Quinn just _missed_ her and she was pretty sure that meant something that she couldn’t be apart from Rachel for even a full weekend and she already missed her. Truth be told, they weren’t even apart a full day before she missed Rachel. But things with Rachel happened so quickly, one moment they were just dating and then the next moment they were living together and practically married. And Quinn had been plagued by doubt the entire time. And granted as more time passed by, she got increasingly content and she became surer. But there was this tiny sliver of doubt that niggled at her, the one that whispered _are you sure you really want this_ and it was hard to ignore.

It seemed fantastically stupid afterward because it _was_ fantastically stupid. But she was drunk, Puck was drunk and drunk logic was fantastically, epically stupid. Somehow she thought if she could have one last night with someone else, she could prove to herself Rachel was really the one for her and she could put it behind her and just be sure. She’d never have to tell Rachel-- she could just go back to Rachel with a guilty conscience but no doubts. Conversely, she thought if she could have one more night with someone else, she might discover Rachel really wasn’t the one for her and wasn’t that something they needed to figure out before they got even more serious? So, she took him by the hand and led him back to her hotel room, quietly inviting him and shushing his repeated ‘are you sure you’re sober?”

It was all very natural with Puck-- in a Tab A fitting into Slot B sort of way. They laughed softly at the déjà vu of it all, and…it was what it was.

But when it was over and she woke up, groggy and cotton-mouthed with an arm on her back that was just too _heavy_ , it all hit her. It was all so _joyless_ , nothing at all like it was with Rachel, which even when they were being _dirty_ , there was still joy behind it. This…this was….Quinn felt disgusting and she was disgusted with herself.

“Oh no,” Quinn whispered and she pushed that too-heavy arm off her and she scrambled to sit up. She looked around the room as if hoping it would all be one colossal joke and Rachel would come bouncing up to her, laughing her head off and clapping, telling Quinn ha-ha, the joke was on her.

Well, the joke was on her, except it was all too real and the enormity, the stupidity of what she’d done hit her. God, how could she have been so _stupid_ , how could any of this have actually made _sense_ to her last night when it seemed so fucking stupid now?

“Oh no,” Quinn whispered again.

Puck roused and he looked at her warily. “Quinn,” he said calmly. “It’s okay. No one ever has to know. I won’t tell Rachel. Just go back and pretend it never happen. You got it out of your system.”

“Get out,” Quinn whispered.

“Q…”

“Get out. Just get out. Please get out.”

He gathered his clothing and left. Quinn had no idea how he managed to look dignified and carefree while he did it, but he did. But why wouldn’t he look carefree? He hadn’t just destroyed his life.

He left, she was alone and she burst into tears. Oh, God. Rachel. She could never tell Rachel about this. Rachel would walk away and never look back and Quinn just couldn’t handle that. It was so stupid, but after last night, Quinn just knew that she didn’t want anyone else, couldn’t have anyone else but Rachel. She couldn’t lose her.

She spent the rest of the morning in bed, crying and wondering how she would ever make it up to Rachel. Then she got up to go to the pharmacy to get some emergency contraceptives-- thank God for Plan B. They’d used a condom, but she wasn’t going to risk getting pregnant with another Puckerman baby. She felt a little bad about doing all this on a Sunday afternoon when she should have been at church or something, but she felt worse about what would happen if Rachel would ever find out.

She visited with her mother for a while, grabbed dinner with the original members of New Directions and realized she hadn’t actually missed them as much as she thought she did. She exchanged some empty promises about staying in touch, returned to her hotel room and cried about how she’d fucked everything up.

She thought about keeping it to herself, but she couldn’t take it. It just weighed too heavily on her. She’d been tempted from the second Puck left to call Rachel and confess everything, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell Rachel something like that over the phone.

She got on that plane, closed her eyes and returned to New York City, back to the life she built for herself over the course of the seven years since she left Lima. It took her seven years to build this life for herself and likely shattered in the span of a few hours. She went back to work because she had to, and felt guilt stab her in the stomach when Monique came by her desk and grabbed her in a hug.

“Thank God,” Monique declared affectionately. “If Cal and I had to hear Rachel say one more word about how much she missed you, I was going to stab her. Did you see her fucking Facebook? She had an actual countdown until she gets to see you again.”

It took every ounce of self-control not to cry. Despite the fuckton of work she had waiting for her, she still left work early that day because she needed to go home, get under the covers, and cry. But the smell of Rachel was everywhere and all she could think about was the look Rachel would get on her face when she’d tell her.

The actual reality was worse than everything Quinn imagined.

\--

So now here she was, facing her girlfriend who looked so hurt and wounded, Quinn found it difficult to breathe. She felt like a cockroach out of some Kafka nightmare and she wished Rachel would just stomp on her and put her out of her misery.

“I’m so sorry,” Quinn cried. “I swear it will never happen again.”

And she meant it. _God_ , how she meant it.

“This is a joke, right?” Rachel said, forcing a smile. She’d finally opened her eyes and pulled her hands away from her ears and now she was standing up, her hand reaching out to Quinn. “You’re just kidding, right? Did the others put you up to this?” She laughed nervously. “Are you filming this and you’re going to put it on Facebook to embarrass me for not coming with you this weekend?”

“Rachel,” Quinn whimpered. “I’m so sorry.” She stood up from the couch as well and reached for Rachel. “I’ll make it up to you. I swear, I’ll make it up to you.”

Rachel’s face fell. “Please tell me you’re just toying with me. This really isn’t funny, but I promise you I won’t be mad if you just tell me right now that you’re just toying with me. You’re just toying with me right? Okay, good. I brought Thai, so let’s eat. You’re probably not hungry, but you need to feed a cold and--”

Rachel’s voice was a soft wheeze and the look on her face, that awful devastated look clearly indicated she knew it wasn’t a joke.

“I can’t,” Quinn whispered. “I can’t tell you this is a joke. God, Rachel. I’m so sorry.”

She tried to touch Rachel, but the brunette pulled away.

“Get away from me,” Rachel said softly, but her voice was hard and angry.

“Please,” Quinn pleaded, reaching for her again. If she could just re-establish a connection with Rachel, then she knew it could get better. This is why she had to tell Rachel in person.

Rachel glared at her, pulling away. “Quinn,” she said with barely controlled rage. “I mean it. Get away from me.”

“Rachel, sweetheart. Baby. Please. Don’t--” She reached for Rachel once more.

“Get away from me. Don’t touch me,” Rachel said coldly.

“Rachel--” She tried again. She didn’t want them to fall into one another and cry or anything. She just wanted to be able to put her hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder because if Rachel would just let her touch her, then maybe Rachel could feel how sorry she was, and maybe they had a chance of recovering from this. “Please.”

“Quinn,” Rachel whispered, and her voice wasn’t cold or angry or hard anymore. It was soft, anguished. “Quinn. I have an overwhelming urge to rip off that lying mouth of yours,” she said, her words coming out strained and strangled. “So if you don’t get out of my face _right now_ I will likely cause you great bodily harm and I will not _care_ because I have no intention of ever seeing or speaking to you again once we resolve the issue of our current cohabitation. So get out of my face before I lose my temper. Because you have no idea what I wish I could do to you right now and I’m not certain I can suppress that temptation for much longer.”

A sob tore out of Quinn’s throat at the malevolent look on Rachel’s face and the violent, threatening words that came out of Rachel’s mouth. Even at their worst, back in high school, Rachel never looked or spoke to her that way and it only highlighted how much work it took to get them to a good place and how quickly all of that was undone.

“Please,” Quinn whispered. “Please. Forgive me,” she begged. “It was one time. It won’t ever happen again. I _love_ you--”

She stepped closer to Rachel, but Rachel took a few steps back.

“Get away from me,” Rachel warned. “Just stop. Stop right there.”

“Please,” Quinn begged and she reached out for Rachel again, knowing if she could just _touch_ Rachel again, there was a better chance it could be okay. “Please!” She moved quickly, trying to bridge the gap between them because Rachel was retreating from her. She quickly grabbed Rachel by the wrist, bringing Rachel’s hand toward her heart. Maybe if Rachel could _feel_ how sincere her heart was…“Please,” she begged. “Let’s talk about this.”

“Let go of me,” Rachel said lowly. “Please, just let go of me. I can’t stand having you touch me right now. Just _let go_.”

But Quinn just couldn’t let go. Not when Rachel was slipping away. She held on a little tighter, maybe harder and tighter than she should have, but when something precious was slipping away, did you hold on or let go? Quinn was the sort of person who just held on. “Plea--”

Quinn didn’t get a chance to finish because Rachel tore herself away from Quinn’s grasp and shoved Quinn so violently the blonde slammed to the ground, looking up at Rachel in disbelief. She honestly never believed Rachel would ever do something like that, even though Rachel blatantly told her she wanted to.

“Rachel…”

“I warned you, don’t you _dare_ have the gall to look at me like that! I don’t ever want your hands on me again,” Rachel snarled. “Is that clear? We’re _done_. The next time you try to touch me, I swear to you, Quinn, I am going to beat your pretty, lying face in. So don’t fucking touch me again!”

Quinn released a whimper. She’d never been afraid of Rachel before. She shrank away. “Okay,” she said meekly. Oh, God. This person in front of her , screaming at her, threatening her, wasn’t Rachel. She was a stranger.

Rachel took a few deep breaths, clearly still enraged but trying to get herself under control. “I’d like you to stay here tonight,” she said quietly, dispassionately. “You just got home and I’m sure you’re looking forward to sleeping in our-- in your own bed. I’m going to stay with a friend. I’m going to be back tomorrow to get some clothes and toiletries. I’ll text you and give you some warning. Don’t be here. I don’t want to see you ever again. I’m going to find an apartment and then I’ll come back for the rest of my belongings. Obviously because my name is on the lease here, I’ll pay my half of the rent next month, since it’s due in just a couple weeks. But I expect you to either find a roommate quickly or pick up the lease here on your own since it’s only one bedroom.” Rachel paused. “Not that should trouble you in the slightest,” she added bitterly. “But I assure you, I will fulfill whatever I’m contractually obliged to do, as I do not want you to initiate legal proceedings against me for failure to uphold my part of our lease agreement--”

“I wouldn’t do that to you.” Quinn protested.

Rachel sneered at her. “Forgive me if I find anything you say to be unbelievable. In any case, I think we can resolve this quietly without--“

“Forgive me,” Quinn sobbed. She got on her knees. “Please,” she begged. “Forgive me.”

Rachel stared her coldly. “That’s not going to happen. What is going to happen is that this is the last time I have to see your face. If you’ve ever loved me even infinitesimally, I plead for your cooperation in making that happen.”

“Forgive me,” Quinn pleaded. This just couldn’t be how their story ended.

“You’re embarrassing yourself, have some _pride_ , Quinn,” Rachel snapped. “Don’t come near me again.”

Quinn grabbed her again. She was still on her knees and wrapped her arms around Rachel’s waist. She pressed her cheek into Rachel’s stomach. She remembered once being in the same physical position in a very different context and she longed to go back in time and punch herself in the face. “Please,” she whispered. “Not like this. It can’t end like this.”

Rachel pulled herself away. “You made the choice to end it like this,” Rachel said quietly, her rage completely deflated. “I loved you. You knew that. And you still chose to…” she trailed off, swallowing hard. It seemed to have reinvigorated her rage because a look of pure malevolence came over her face, twisting her features. “You still chose to _fuck_ him,” Rachel spat out. She released a ragged sign and hung her head. “Why did it have to be _him_?”

“I’m so sorry. I…I was…please, just…can’t we just sit down and talk? Let me explain--” She reached for Rachel again, and pulled Rachel’s hands into her own. She pulled herself up so she could face Rachel again. “Please,” she pleaded.

“No,” Rachel said quietly. “I just can’t look at you the same way. This will always in my mind now. We’re done.”

“I can’t accept that,” Quinn whispered. “Baby, you know I love you.”

Rachel shook her head. “No. No, you don’t. You’re a liar.”

“I love you,” Quinn repeated. She reached for Rachel’s wrist and was relieved when Rachel didn’t pull away. “I love you,” she said again, her hand curling around Rachel’s wrist and holding on.

“No.”

“I love you,” Quinn whispered. She pulled Rachel close, wrapped her arms around Rachel’s waist so they were belly-to-belly and brushed her lips against Rachel’s forehead. “I love you. I’m so so sorry, but please believe me. I love you,” she husked. “Let me prove it to you. Let me make it up to you. Let me make it up to you and you won’t regret it. I swear, I’ll make sure you never regret it.”

Rachel released a small cry. “No,” she said, pushing at Quinn’s shoulders. “Don’t touch me!”

“I love you,” Quinn whispered. She held Rachel tighter, unwilling to let her go because she was sure Rachel would be spirited away. She pressed their lips together.

The moment their lips touched, a noise was choked from within Rachel’s throat and Rachel pushed her away. “No. Stop it,” Rachel said, wiping at her mouth. “Get away from me.”

“I love you,” Quinn whispered. “I love you and I know you love me. I’m not letting it end. Not like this. I’m not letting you go. You’re my girlfriend. I know you love me.”

She pulled Rachel toward her again. Rachel wiggled free and pushed Quinn away.

“No,” Rachel whispered. “No. We’re done. We’re _done_. It’s not up to you anymore.”

Quinn pushed back, slamming Rachel hard against the wall and pinning her by the arms with both hands. “It’s not up to all up to you, either” she whispered. Her hands slipped under Rachel’s shirt, pulling it up. She began gently massaging Rachel’s breasts, her fingers making circles on Rachel’s nipples. “There are two of us in this relationship. I know you love me. You _love_ me. Say it.”

“No,” Rachel said weakly. She struggled to pull her shirt down, she struggled against Quinn as the blonde continued to massage her breasts. “No. We’re done. Stop. Please. No. Stop. Stop. I don’t want this! Stop it!”

“You love me,” Quinn repeated. “I know you still love me. We can work through this. I know we can.” Quinn’s hands cupped Rachel’s face. “Say you love me,” Quinn whispered. “I know you still love me.” She slipped one leg between Rachel’s and began grinding her thigh between Rachel’s legs. “We can work through this. I know it.”

“I don’t want this! Stop it! This isn’t going to fix anything! Stop it!” Rachel continued to struggle against Quinn.

“You love me,” Quinn whispered, moving her hands down to unbutton Rachel’s jeans. If Rachel would just let her do this, Rachel could see they could be good again.

Rachel shoved her hands away. “I don’t love you anymore,” Rachel whispered, pulling her face away from Quinn and bringing her hands up to Quinn’s shoulders. She pushed at them. “Get away from me!”

Quinn continued to move her thigh between Rachel’s legs. Quinn grabbed both of Rachel’s wrists in her hands. “Don’t say that, stop saying that. I know you still love me. I know you know we can work through this!”

“No!” Rachel exclaimed, trying to pull her hands free, but not quite managing to free herself from being pinned between the wall and Quinn. “Let _go_ of me! I don’t want this!” She began punching at Quinn’s thigh which was still grinding into Rachel. “That _hurts_. Stop it! I don’t want this! Please just stop! _Please_. You’re stronger than me, okay? You’re stronger than me! Fine! We can get back together, just _please_ just stop it!” Rachel was sobbing and alternately pushing at Quinn’s shoulders and punching at Quinn’s thigh which was still moving between her thighs. “Please,” Rachel whimpered. “It _really_ hurts. I’m not wet right now, okay? This doesn’t feel good. I’m not _aroused_ by this even if you are. I don’t want to do this like this. Please, please just stop. If you want to have sex, that’s _fine_ just… just let me…I…just give me a minute, okay? Please…just…I…stop, please. I’ll…I’ll give me a chance to take off my pants, okay? Just…please…just….I need you to…I…” Rachel was sobbing and she unbuttoned and unzipped her pants. She began to lower them. “I’ll give you what you want. I just…I need a minute to get there, okay? Just give me a minute.”

Rachel was sobbing as she began to try to pull her pants down. It stunned Quinn enough that she released Rachel and stumbled back. Jesus Christ, she’d gone from cheater to would-be rapist.

“Rachel--” Quinn choked out. “Rachel, oh God. No, stop. Don’t…don’t take your pants off. Oh God. Oh God. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” She wanted desperately to hug Rachel as tightly as she could, but it was clearly not the best course of action.

Rachel sank to her feet and was now crouched on the ground, curled up as tightly as she could. “Why did you do that?” she whispered. “What are you trying to do!? Bully me into forgiving you?”  
  
“No! I just…I just…oh God, I keep fucking it up,” Quinn cried. And she’d clearly lost her fucking mind or something, but she just couldn’t think properly anymore. She thought if she could re-establish a physical connection, she could re-establish their emotional connection, too. She never meant to hurt Rachel like this, to hurt her even more. All she knew was that she had to fix this. She _had_ to. Quinn knelt beside her and grabbed Rachel’s hands. “I just want to fix this!” she sobbed. “Please, just let me fix this.”

“What were you trying to do?!” Rachel shouted, sobbing and yanking her hands away from Quinn’s. She glared at Quinn resentfully. “I didn’t want to!”

“I’m so sorry,” Quinn whispered hoarsely. “I just…I just…”

“You just what?!”

“I just wanted to try to fix things,” Quinn whispered feebly.

“Why don’t you get this can’t be fixed! It’s _done_!” Rachel shouted, standing up. She’d already pulled up her jeans, but they remained unzipped and unbuttoned. Quinn flinched at the sight of Rachel hastily zipping up and buttoning her jeans.

“It can’t be done, Rachel,” Quinn whispered. She hesitantly reached out and took Rachel’s hands. “We can get through this, sweetheart. I know we can.”

Rachel’s hands clenched into fists and she yanked them away. “ _Stop_ trying to touch me,” she hissed. “You think that’s going to make it better? You think the sex with you is so great that you can just touch me and I’ll want to be with you? It doesn’t work like that!” Rachel exploded. “I told you not to touch me! I meant it! All I can think about is how your fucking hands were all over _him_. Did you play with his balls, Quinn? He likes that. Did you blow him? Did you swallow his cum like you do mine? Did you let him fuck your face? Did you give him a handjob to get him ready or was his cock already hard and so you felt you just had to oblige and let him penetrate you and--”  
It just hurt too much. It hurt too much to hear Rachel, her sweet, good-natured Rachel say such _ugly_ things and Quinn just lost it.

Quinn slapped Rachel across the face. _Hard_. Hard enough to split Rachel’s lower lip.

Quinn stared at her own hand in horror before she turned to Rachel. “Oh God. Rachel. Baby, I’m so sorry. Are you okay? I--” She reached out to Rachel, wanting to see what damage she’d just inflicted.

Rachel reared back and stared at Quinn in shock. “ _You_ hit _me_?!” she demanded incredulously, clutching her hand to her cheek and wiping at her mouth. “You have the nerve to hit me?!”

Quinn felt sick. She’d just… _reacted_ to all those awful things Rachel said. Jesus, what kind of person was she?

“Oh God,” Quinn whispered, reaching out again to cup Rachel’s face. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I…oh, God. Baby, please. Let me look at you. I…”

Rachel shoved her away. “It’s over,” she spat. “You stay here tonight. I’ll come back tomorrow to pick up some of my things like I told you. _Don’t_ be here, or God help me, Quinn, I won’t be responsible for my actions because I really want to _kill_ you right now.”

“Please,” Quinn begged as she cried. She grabbed Rachel’s hand. “Please, just let me explain. Let me talk to you--”

“Let go of my hand, Quinn,” Rachel said softly.

“No,” Quinn whispered. “No, I’m not letting you go. Please. If you leave here tonight, I know you won’t come back. So I can’t. I can’t let go.”

“Quinn,” Rachel whispered, anguished. “Let go of my hand.”

“No. No, I can’t…I can’t let you go like this. Please. I need--”

“I don’t care what you need,” Rachel said quietly, clearly trying to contain her rage. “Let go of my hand because all I can think about is how gratifying it would be to smash your face in. And I’m not being melodramatic. You need to get away from me right now. You need to just let me leave for _your_ own good, because I’m not sure how much I can control myself. Let me _go_ ,” Rachel pleaded. “I’ll _hurt_ you,” she said, her voice cracking. “Do you want that? Just let me go because if I don’t walk out of here right now, I _will_ hurt you. It’s not _safe_ for you to be around me right now, so let go of my hand before I make you.”

Quinn swallowed hard and dropped Rachel’s hand. She closed her eyes and held her face out toward Rachel, chin slightly elevated. “Hit me,” she said quietly. “If it’ll make you feel better, hit me.”

“Quinn,” Rachel warned.

“Hit me,” Quinn said, opening her eyes. “Hit me. We’ll both feel better if you do,” she said quietly. “I know I deserve it. So hit me. After everything, please just hit me.”

Rachel’s face contorted in rage. “Don’t tempt me, you fucking _whore_. You stupid fucking whore!” Rachel screamed. “You stupid fucking bitch! You think I won’t hit you? You’re so confident I won’t hit you that you’re asking me to do it?! You stupid whore, get _out_ of my face before I smash yours into a thousand fucking pieces! Get away from me!”

Quinn flinched because it was the first time Rachel ever called her names like that. “Hit me,” she said softly. “I deserve it.”

Rachel’s hands clenched into fists. “It would be my pleasure,” she said. “You don’t know how much I want to.”

Quinn closed her eyes. “I deserve it. Hit me. Break me. Just please, don’t leave here tonight. Please don’t go. Please just let me fix it. Hit me.”

Quinn expected the first blow-- Rachel was _seething_. She was so angry, her whole body seemed to hum with fury. Even with her eyes closed, Quinn felt Rachel’s rage. But the blow never came. Instead Quinn heard a smash and Rachel’s outraged scream. Quinn’s eyes opened and she found Rachel on her knees in the corner of the room, smashing her fists repeatedly into the side panel of her mahogany desk.

Quinn’s eyes widened as Rachel continued to smash her fists into the wood, causing it to splinter. Quinn ran to Rachel and wrapped her arms around Rachel’s shoulders and pulled back.

“Stop,” Quinn pleaded because Rachel’s hands were bleeding and likely broken and Rachel was clearly in agony.

“Let go me, you fucking bitch,” Rachel cried. “Let go of me!” She struggled away and resumed smashing her fists into the desk. There was the sickening crack of splintering wood, fracturing bones and breaking skin.

Quinn grabbed her again from behind the shoulders and pulled. She held onto Rachel who was screaming and crying and Quinn felt tears stream down her cheeks. What _was_ this? She didn’t recognize herself and she didn’t recognize Rachel,

Rachel pulled herself away again and continued to smash her fists into the desk, despite the visible deformities arising in the flesh and knuckles of her hands.

Quinn grabbed her again and this time held on as tightly as she could, because otherwise she was afraid Rachel might harm herself irreparably. Rachel just seemed so crazed. Rachel struggled against her.

“Let go of me you fucking whore! Let go of me!” She continued to struggle and assail at the desk, but Quinn pulled her back far enough there was no impact.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn sobbed. “Please… _please_ stop.” She buried her forehead into Rachel’s neck. “Why did you have to hurt yourself?” she sobbed. “I told you to hit _me_.” She held on as fiercely as she could because she was not going to let Rachel create more damage to herself. Her hands were bleeding and curled up. Quinn wouldn’t be surprised if every fragile bone in those small, delicate hands was broken. She shut her eyes as she thought about how tenderly those hands used to touch her and how brutally they’d punched through a mahogany desk.

“You fucking bitch,” Rachel said hoarsely. “Let go of me. I’m not finished yet,” she said struggling against Quinn. “I’m going to smash that desk into a thousand fucking pieces which is what I wish I could do to _you_.”

Quinn held onto her. “Please,” she begged. “Please stop. You’re only hurting yourself.”

“You fucking bitch,” Rachel cried as she continued to struggle. “I trusted you. I thought you loved me. I should have known better.”

“I _do_ love you,” Quinn said desperately. “I’m so sorry. Please just _stop_ , you’re just going to hurt yourself more. Please. Please stop.”

“You fucking bitch,” Rachel whispered. She’d stopped fighting and now she was struggling to breathe as she cried. “Why did you have to tell me?” She fell into an exhausted heap against Quinn, leaning into the blonde.

“I thought you would want to know,” Quinn said weakly. She stroked Rachel’s hair.

“You fucking bitch,” Rachel wheezed, crying. “Why did you have to tell me? You did it, why couldn’t you just shoulder the burden of it on your own?”

“I thought you’d want to know,” Quinn repeated weakly.

They lay together like that for a while-- Quinn holding onto Rachel and Rachel in an exhausted heap against Quinn. They were both crying and breathing loudly and Quinn wasn’t sure how much time passed, but finally Rachel pulled away. She put her hands on the ground to try to brace herself and immediately released a pained moan.

“Oh God, baby,” Quinn whispered.

“I didn’t want to know. Ignorance is bliss,” Rachel said quietly. She managed to stand up and tried to wipe at her eyes, smearing blood over her eyes. Between clearly broken hands, the blood on her face and the blood trickling from her split lip, Rachel was a frightening, ghoulish sight. She grimaced at the pain and seemed to see her bleeding hands for the first time. She sniffed. “I don’t want to hear any excuses from you,” she said dully. “I don’t want to hear any explanations. I don’t want to hear you tell me you love me. I just want you out of my life as quickly as possible.”

Quinn swallowed hard. “Rachel--”

“I understand that logistically, this will not be the last time I see you,” Rachel said and clearly control and sanity were coming back, but she was clearly retreating within herself. “But I’m asking for your cooperation in ensuring we see as little of each other as possible until we can get everything settled. Since we don’t have many shared assets, it should be simple.” Rachel cleared her throat. “Your name is on the lease here, so I’m not going to fight you on it. You can stay here and I’ll move out. I don’t care what you want, you can have it. I’ll even _pay_ you. But I just want you out of my life as soon as possible. That’s all I want from you.”

“Forgive me,” Quinn begged. “It can’t end like this. I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry. Please, can’t we start over? We’re in love, aren’t we? We can…we can survive this.”

Rachel’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “I don’t have the energy to love you anymore,” Rachel said quietly. “Every time you look at me, every time you touch me, every time I hear your voice, I want to throw up. I feel physically _ill_ right now being around you.

“If you just give me one more chance, I know we can make it through this,” Quinn whispered. “I love you. I love you so much, Rachel. I’ll…I’ll _die_ without you.”

She knew it was melodramatic, particularly because she’d been the withholding, unsure one in the relationship all this time. But it felt so true at the moment.

“I don’t think you understand,” Rachel said dully. “We can’t fix this because I don’t love you anymore. I _loved_ you, past tense. We _were_ in love, past tense. I don’t care if you die, because I don’t care about you, present tense.”

“You don’t mean that,” Quinn choked out.

Rachel couldn’t mean that. Rachel was just trying to hurt her like she’d hurt Rachel.

Rachel sniffled. “I’m leaving now,” she said quietly. “Don’t try to stop me this time.”

“Wait” Quinn pleaded. “Your hands…let me take you to the hospital. You…you probably broke them and…”

“Not your concern anymore,” Rachel said quietly. She walked away and picked up her purse, wincing and moaning lowly at the burden it put on her hands and pulled it to her shoulder. “When I come back here tomorrow to get some things, I don’t want you to be here.”

“Please don’t go,” Quinn pleaded.

“You left first.”

\--

Rachel left and all Quinn could do was cry. She was horrified with herself. First for not defending Rachel when the others were mocking her. Then for cheating on her. Then she…God, she must have been out of her mind when she forced herself on Rachel, when she hit Rachel.

She’d never seen Rachel like that-- so hurt and enraged. She’d genuinely been afraid of Rachel for the first time. And for the first time, Rachel seemed afraid of her, too. God, it seemed so _hopeless_.

What did she _do_?  
\--

She received a text from Rachel the next day. It was brisk.

_Going by the apartment in an hour. Will need a couple of hours_

Quinn wondered if Rachel had someone type the text out for her, she didn’t think Rachel would be able to do it because yesterday, Rachel couldn’t even open the doorknob on her own, she flatly asked Quinn to do it, and Quinn watched from the hallway as Rachel kicked up her foot to press down on the elevator call button. How was Rachel taking care of herself?

Quinn took a sick day from work, despite the mountain of things she had to do. She just couldn’t concentrate. It didn’t matter. All she could think about was Rachel and every time she closed her eyes, she could picture Rachel’s face, contorted with rage and anguish.

She contemplated just staying and trying to talk to Rachel again, but she’d seen the look on Rachel’s face when she left the night before and Quinn thought perhaps it was better to just give Rachel what she wanted.

When Quinn returned to the apartment three hours later, the apartment looked the same until she went into the bedroom and the bathroom. Rachel’s toiletries were gone and her closet was half-empty. Quinn pulled one of Rachel’s shirts off the hanger and pressed it to her face. She inhaled deeply.

What did she _do_?

\--


	11. Chapter 11

\--

The next time she saw Rachel was a couple weeks later when she dropped by the apartment to pick up some new clothes. Rachel brought some tall, dark-haired girl called Lindsay with her and Quinn felt jealousy build up in her belly. Quinn stared at the cast on one of Rachel’s hands and the splint on the other hand. Tears sprang to her eyes. But Rachel otherwise looked normal. Great, in fact.

“Hello, Quinn,” Rachel said calmly. “I trust you’re doing well.”

She wasn’t. She was _terrible_.Her life had turned into one big cliché about heartbreak. She’d lost weight, because she couldn’t eat. She looked terrible because she couldn’t sleep and she no longer gave a shit about her appearance. Work was awful because of the angry looks of disgust and disdain Monique cast her for three days once Monique found out. Then Monique sighed, put her arm around Quinn and said, “you’re still my friend, too, even if you are an asshole,” which made her feel even worse than when Monique looked at her like she was three seconds away from jumping Quinn in the breakroom.

“Rachel, hi,” Quinn said softly. She moved forward to hug her, but Rachel flinched and took a few steps back.

“Don’t,” Rachel said quietly. “I’m just here to pick up some clothes.”

“How are you?” Quinn asked softly and she wanted to punch herself in the face for asking such a stupid question.

“I realize I did not give you fair warning about coming over,” Rachel said, ignoring the question entirely. “I hope we’re not intruding on anything.”

“No, of course not. I--”

“Follow me to the bedroom,” Rachel said to Lindsay. “I want to get out of here as soon as possible.”

Lindsay was holding an empty duffel bag and she paused for a moment as she passed Quinn as she followed behind Rachel.

“If she weren’t here, I’d punch your fucking heart out,” Lindsay hissed at Quinn. “You better pray I don’t see you when she’s not around.”

After a few minutes, Rachel stepped out into the living room again. Lindsay was carrying the duffel bag over her shoulder.

“Well,” Rachel said. “We’re going to get going,” she told Quinn. “I’m still looking for an apartment, but once I do, I promise we can finish this up quietly.”

“Wait,” Quinn pleaded. “Can’t we talk? Just for a few minutes.”

“Watch it,” Lindsay cut in warningly, stepping in between Quinn and Rachel. “She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“It’s okay,” Rachel said softly. “Lind, take it easy.”

Lindsay snorted but took a few steps back so Rachel and Quinn could face each other again.

“And what do you need to talk to me about? I paid all the utility bills this month, and when the bill comes for this month’s usage, I’ll be more than happy to sit down and pro-rate it. I’m also perfectly willing to pay half. So what could we possibly talk about?”

“About…about…” Quinn swallowed hard. “Please, Rachel?”

Rachel sighed and she turned to Lindsay. “Give me a minute, okay?”

“Crystal’s going to be pissed. She’s double parked”

“Then drive around the block. I’ll be back by then.”

“Okay,” Lindsay said, hefting the duffel bag. “But if you aren’t down in a few minutes, I‘m coming back up.”

“Okay,” Rachel said softly.

\--

“What did you want to talk about?” Rachel asked neutrally. She was unnaturally calm.

“I love you,” Quinn said quietly. “I did an awful, unforgiveable thing, but I’m asking you to forgive me.”

“I know it was your idea,” Rachel said flatly. “I called Noah and demanded he tell me. I know you were the one who invited him up.”

Quinn cursed softly. She hated Noah Puckerman.

Rachel glared at her. “Don’t blame him. He tried to protect you, but I could tell he was lying. So I made him tell me the truth. I know it was your idea. I know neither of you were that drunk.”

“Rachel, I’m so sorry.”

“I honestly don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“Rachel…” Quinn whimpered because this cold, emotionless person was _not_ her Rachel.

“Is that all you want to say?”

“I know you don’t want to forgive me. I know I don’t deserve it. But can we _please_ try to fix this? Please,” Quinn begged. “I love you. I love you so much. I’ll do anything to earn your trust again. I’ll do anything to make you love me again. But please, don’t…don’t give up on me.”

Of everyone she’d had in her life, Rachel was always the one whose faith in her never wavered. Until now.

Rachel’s expression was stony. “No. It’s done. It’s _over_. Accept it. I have, and it makes things much easier.”

“No,” Quinn denied, shaking her head. “No. No, this isn’t the way it’s going to go. You’re going to forgive me. You’re the best, the most forgiving person I know. I know it won’t end like this! I know you can find it in your heart to forgive me! That’s the kind of person you are! Please, Rachel.”

Rachel smiled sadly. “I really wish I were that person,” she said quietly. “But I’m not. You don’t love me. You couldn’t have done this to me if you’d actually loved me.”

“I do love you,” Quinn cried. “I was just so…so… _fucked up_. And I’m so sorry. But I love you so much and I know you can find it in your heart to forgive me! I know what kind of person you are!”

Rachel smiled wistfully. “I really wish I were that person,” she said quietly. “You don’t know how much I wish I were that person. But I’m not. You hurt me too much this time. I won’t ever be able to trust you again.”

“I would do anything to make you believe me. I’ll do anything you ask me to do.”

Rachel laughed softly. “Build a time machine and don’t fuck Noah.”

Quinn’s eyes welled with tears. “What can I do?” she pleaded. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it,” she begged desperately.

“You can’t,” Rachel whispered. “You aren’t understanding it. I’m not playing games here. You just…you can’t fix it. Some things are irreparable. This is one of them. I wish there were something you could do, but I just feel empty and drained. I’m not even angry anymore. I just… I want to resolve things so I don’t have to think about you anymore. I want you to go away. I want you out of my life. I want to pretend I didn’t throw away the last few years of my life doing _this_ with you over and over again. I wish we never met. I wished we’d never tried over and over again. I want this thing between us to go away.”

“You don’t mean that,” Quinn said softly. “Please tell me you don’t mean that!”

Rachel sucked in a deep breath. Her eyes were watery, but she wasn’t crying. “I do mean it, but I can concede there might be some time in the future we can be friends. But _just_ friends.”

A dull squeak escaped Quinn’s throat. No no no. This couldn’t go like this.

“I feel like I need to apologize to you,” Rachel said softly.

Quinn’s eyes widened. “For what? I--”

“The night you told me about…Noah. I was wildly out of control and I said things to you that were vulgar and cruel. Despite what you did, you are a good person and you didn’t deserve those things I called you. And I’m very sorry about that. I’m sorry I threatened you and I’m so very sorry if I frightened you. I was completely out of control and I would never really want to hurt you. Looking back on it, I don’t know why I reacted like that because it was completely out of measure for the context. Infidelity is practically the most cliché thing in the world and I should have accepted it more gracefully without threatening you or demeaning you. I’m really sorry about that and you have no idea how much I regret those things I said to you because you _truly_ didn’t deserve it.”

Quinn closed her eyes and flinched. She wished Rachel would just hit her. It would make it easier to take.

“I wish you’d just hit me,” Quinn said softly.

Rachel shook her head. “What would that help?”

“ God, Rachel,” Quinn whispered. “Why didn’t you just hit me?”

Rachel looked appalled.”Didn’t you see what I did to that desk? Can you imagine what I could have done to _you_? I was out of my mind that night, Quinn. I would never want to put my hands on you like that.”

“You should have just hit me,” Quinn whispered. “I deserved it.”

“If I’d hit you that night, I could have killed you. Is that what you want?”

“Sometimes I think it might have been better,” Quinn admitted.

“Don’t…don’t do that,” Rachel said. “This is actually not a big deal. Everyone breaks up with everyone else, breaking up _is_ actually the most cliché thing in the world. What we did to each other that night was crazy. It was totally out of proportion for a break-up.”

“I know,” Quinn conceded quietly. But it really felt like her world was ending. “But I still wish you’d just hit me instead. What about your hands?”

“Broken,” Rachel said wryly. She held up the right one which was the one splinted. “They put pins in this one.” She gave Quinn a tiny smile and held up her left. “This one just needed a cast, but then, my left side was always the weaker side.”

Quinn couldn’t even bring herself to smile back. Her eyes watered. “Does it hurt?” she asked hoarsely.

“Not particularly, no.”

“How are you taking care of yourself?” Quinn asked softly. She’d been sure Rachel’s hands were broken, so she’d researched it on the internet and she knew Rachel’s mobility had to be constricted.

“That’s really not your concern anymore.”

Quinn flinched, but nodded. “What about work?”

“Again, not really your concern anymore.”

Quinn nodded again. She cleared her throat. It felt raw. “Is this really how this has to go?” she whispered.

Rachel gave her a small smile. “I think we can be friends at some later point,” she said softly. “I really do love you. I lied when I said I didn’t.” She sucked in a deep breath. “And I lied when I said I never wanted to see you again. But this…” Rachel looked around their shared apartment. “This is over. But maybe later when everything stops being so…tender, we can be friends again. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

Quinn exhaled slowly, defeated. “Yes.” She swallowed hard. “I want to apologize, too,” she said softly.

“You already did, multiple times.”

“I want to apologize for that night. When I…” Quinn cringed. “When I tried to make you…” she swallowed hard. “I would never have forced you to…” Quinn closed her eyes. When she thought about that night, that was the part that made her cringe every time, because she’d tried to force herself on Rachel to the point Rachel was fearful and begging her to stop. It just highlighted how respectfully Rachel always treated her when it came to that sort of thing. Rachel was the more adventurous one in their sex life, but she’d always made sure Quinn was okay with _everything_. She had nightmares now of holding Rachel down, hitting her, _taking_ her despite Rachel screaming, crying and begging her to stop and when she woke up, sometimes the dream was so real, had been come so close to actually being reality that Quinn was certain it really happened and that was why Rachel no longer lived there. “I wouldn’t have…” Quinn trailed off, her voice dropping to a wheeze. She had to make Rachel believe she’d never actually make Rachel…do _that_. Except she almost had, so she didn’t even _feel_ credible.

“I think I know what you were trying to do,” Rachel cut in gently. “I know I made it a bigger deal than it actually was, you know me, always so melodramatic,” she said with a self-deprecating roll of her eyes. “I just…I really didn’t want to that night. But I know you. I know you’d never make me do anything I didn’t want to do. You were always good to me about that. It was okay, Quinn. I made it a bigger deal that it really was.”

Quinn nodded dumbly because she thought back to Rachel struggling against her, crying and begging her to stop and while Quinn wanted to believe she wouldn’t have taken it further, she was also appalled by her own actions. But she’d just wanted Rachel back and genuinely felt like if they could just be intimate with one another, then they had a shot at fixing things.

“No, I was the one out of control,” Quinn said. “You…you weren’t being melodramatic. You had every right to react like that. But I swear to you, Rachel, I wouldn’t have…I wouldn’t have gone further. I just…I…”

“I know,” Rachel said softly. “I know what you were trying to do. I’ve known you a long time, remember?”

“Since daycare,” Quinn laughed softly.

“Exactly,” Rachel murmured. “So I know what you were trying to do. It’s okay, Quinn.”

“I hit you,” Quinn said softly. “I’m so sorry for that. It was…indefensible,” Quinn breathed. “I just kept fucking up more and more that day.”

“It’s okay,” Rachel said quietly. “As I recall, I was saying some really ugly things to you. And it was a really abnormal day. That was never our norm. We were never like that, Quinn. It was a really ugly day in both our lives and we both behaved outrageously and inexcusably. But let’s just try to move on from that. We’re both better than the things that happened that night. ”

Quinn sniffed. “Yeah,” she whispered, but she didn’t feel like she was. Rachel definitely was, but Quinn knew she wasn’t. She swallowed hard. “I love you, Rachel,” she whispered.

“Okay,” Rachel accepted, with a nod. “I love you too, but I’m going to go now.”

Quinn swallowed hard and watched Rachel leave again.

\--

The next few weeks were a dull blur. Rachel found a new apartment and moved all of her personal items out like the Drama Desk Award she won for her first Broadway role or sentimental items like photo albums. The apartment had been hers before it was Quinn’s, so most of the furniture was Rachel’s but Rachel left all that behind. Consequently, Quinn had to sleep in the bed Rachel bought, and had to watch Rachel’s TV and ate from Rachel’s plates. It was exactly as torturous as it sounded. Quinn was tempted to give up the apartment and pay the lease breaking fee, but she kept hoping if she stayed, Rachel would come home.

That did not happen.

\--

The next time she saw Rachel in person (Rachel was all over the TV in various guest spots and the new play she was in was earning rave reviews with rumors Rachel was a sure lock for the Tony) was nearly six months later at Shelby’s apartment on Christmas. Puck was there as well, and he looked as uncomfortable as Quinn felt, but Rachel greeted them both warmly. And then proceeded to ignore them for the rest of the night until the moment Rachel announced she was leaving.

Rachel hugged Beth tightly, hugged Shelby awkwardly and shook hands with Shelby’s boyfriend, Frank (whose last name was sadly, Lee as in ‘frankly, my dear I don’t give a damn’). Then she smiled at Puck, stood up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “We’re fine, Noah,” she murmured in his ear. Then she looked at Quinn and smiled. “Are you going to the wedding?”

Quinn swallowed hard. “Yeah. You?”

“Me too. I’ll see you there.”

She left without coming within three feet of Quinn.

Calvin and Monique were getting married on the day after Valentine’s Day and while Quinn generally loathed weddings, she couldn’t wait until this one.

\--

Time passed quickly and soon it was the day of the wedding.

The ceremony was beautiful and Quinn found herself moved to tears although she really thought about what she’d lost. It was a cold Saturday afternoon, but everyone seemed to be in good spirits. Calvin looked dapper and Monique looked stunning. Quinn couldn’t begrudge them their happiness. Quinn sat next to her coworker, Antoinette, during the ceremony and they exchanged a smile after Monique passed them as she walked down the aisle.

“Our friend looks so pretty,” Antoinette commented wonderingly, with a bright grin..

“Yeah,” Quinn agreed with a smile.

She happened to glance across the aisle and spotted Rachel, who was seated in the same row, just in a different column of seats. Rachel looked beautiful in a peach colored dress and she was leaning forward, smiling largely as she followed Monique’s progress down the aisle. Once Monique reached the altar, Rachel leaned back, but happened to glance to her right as she did so. She caught Quinn staring and Rachel leaned forward again, smiled a little and cast a tiny wave by wiggling her fingers.

Quinn smiled and waved back.

\--

Quinn was touching up her makeup in the bathroom when Rachel exited one of the stalls.

“Hi,” Rachel greeted, surprised.

“Hi,” Quinn said softly.

Rachel smiled at her. “You sure do clean up well,” she joked.

Quinn rolled her eyes. “Thanks,”

Rachel chuckled. “You look beautiful, Quinn,” she said sincerely.

“So do you,” Quinn whispered.

And she did. Oh, she did. Quinn couldn’t help but stare.

Rachel gave her a small smile. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“It’s an open bar.”

“Cheap date then,” Rachel joked. “Dirty Belvedere martini with three olives?”

Quinn laughed and nodded. “Only if you let me buy you a bellini.”

“Sure,” Rachel said with a small smile. “I’m a cheap date, too.”

They walked back to the bar together and ordered their drinks. Once they were set in front of them, it became awkward again and Quinn was unsure of how to proceed. It was clear Rachel felt the same way because she had an uncertain smile frozen to her face.

“Do you want to sit down?” Quinn asked.

“Uh…sure.”

And then Rachel followed her to an empty table. The wedding photographer ran across the dance floor, maneuvering his way through all the dancing people and crouched by their table to snap their picture.

“Miss Linton, I’m a _really_ big fan,” he gushed.

“Why wouldn’t you be?” Quinn called out, before she could stop herself.

He gave her a _look_ , but Rachel beamed at her before she turned her attention back to the photographer.

Rachel grinned at him. “Thank you. I’m a fan of your work as well. Monique and I looked through a lot of portfolios before we chose yours.”

He beamed at her. “Thank you!”

And then he ran off to snap some other pictures.

Rachel turned back to Quinn and laughed self-deprecatingly. “So, what have you been up to?”

\--

They talked for _hours_ as they caught each other up on the past seven months. Quinn couldn’t believe it’d been that long.

\--

Quinn woke up next to Rachel in a hotel room and immediately groaned. God, she’d gotten so drunk the night before, she was _still_ drunk now.

“Rachel,” Quinn said, smacking Rachel on the shoulder. “Wake up.”

Rachel let out a groan of protest and then cocked open one eye. She stared at Quinn who stared back at her. “This was very stupid.”

Quinn winced and tried not to let that sting. “I’m going to get some water, do you want some?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Quinn climbed out of the bed and groused a little when she saw her very expensive dress in a crumpled heap on the floor with her shoes on top of it. Damn it. She examined her wrists, touched her ears and patted her neck as she went to the bathroom to get some tap water. Good _God_ , she’d somehow lost all her jewelry. At the moment, however, she didn’t care. She just wanted to drink some water and go back to sleep.

Rachel evidently felt the same way because once Quinn came back with a glass of water, Rachel drained it, carelessly tossed the plastic cup to the ground in an uncharacteristic display of messiness and laid down again.

Quinn went back to sleep and woke up a few hours later, still feeling like shit, but slightly better.

Rachel was still sleeping, curled up almost fetal, her brows furrowed together. Rachel got like that sometimes-- she slept like she was terrified of something. It always made Quinn sad, and she felt particularly sad about it at this moment, but Rachel always laughed it off as no big deal-- “sometimes you feel like taking up a lot of space, sometimes you don’t,” she’d say with a laugh.

Quinn hesitantly touched her fingers gently to Rachel’s forehead. It took her a few times to do this, for she reached out and pulled back three times before she had the nerve to actually touch Rachel. She was so afraid of waking Rachel up. “Come home,” she pleaded quietly. “Please. Please come home. Come home. I’ll do anything. Please. Just come home.”

But Rachel never stirred.

\--

Quinn got out of bed to try to figure out what the hell happened to them last night. She knew they must have gotten blasted if they stayed in the hotel rather than just hailing cabs and going home, but she honestly had no memory of getting this hotel room with Rachel. She glanced at the clock. It was 10am and check out time should be soon. Rachel was sleeping like she was dead to the world and Quinn wanted to be sure Rachel had time to sleep, so she put her wrinkled dress back on, grabbed her purse and the room key which had been discarded on the ground and then walked down to the lobby, ignoring the snickers and amused looks from other hotel patrons.

An actual walk of shame. God.

When she tried to find out about check-out times and billing information, the reception desk told her Ms. Linton took care of everything last night and to enjoy the room for as long as necessary.

Quinn swallowed hard and put in an order for room service. She wasn’t really hungry, but she knew she needed to eat something because she _still_ felt drunk and if Rachel’s deep slumber was any indication, Rachel would need to eat something when she woke up, too. She made sure the hotel kitchen could prepare a vegan meal and then walked back to the room.

Rachel was just beginning to rouse when she re-entered. Quinn knelt by the bed at Rachel’s side as the brunette sat up, her legs hanging over the edges of the bed.

“Come home,” Quinn pleaded, kissing Rachel’s calf. “Come.” Kiss. “Home.” She kissed Rachel’s calves, switching off between the right and the left and kissed Rachel’s knees, all the while pleading for Rachel to come home.

Rachel pushed herself off the bed and knelt on the floor beside Quinn. “Stop,” she whispered. She put her hands on Quinn’s cheeks. “Last night was a mistake,” she said firmly. “I’m never coming home because it’s not my home anymore. We can be friends, but this is never happening again. It was a drunken, lamentable lapse in judgment.”

“Come home,” Quinn pleaded. “Please, come home.”

“Quinn…”

“We can start again,” Quinn whispered. “We’ve started over so many times, why can’t we start over one more time?”

“Don’t you think the fact we needed to start over so many times proves we just shouldn’t be together?”

“I took you for granted,” Quinn admitted quietly. “I know that. You know that, too.”

“Quinn…”

“I was scared,” Quinn whispered. “It was happening too fast and I didn’t understand it. I kept thinking it was too fast and it was outside my control. I wasn’t sure how I felt about you,” she admitted.

Rachel winced. “That would have been very helpful information before you agreed to be exclusive with me.”

“I knew,” Quinn added hastily. “I knew I loved you, but I was so confused. I wasn’t ready for everything that happened and I wanted to ask you if maybe we could slow down and take a step back, but then we moved in together and--”

“You asked to move in!”

“You liked Dylan,” Quinn whispered miserably.

“What?”

“You liked Dylan.”

“No, I didn’t,” Rachel refuted.

“You liked him. You were spending more and more time with him. He was taking you away from me,” Quinn said, and she didn’t care how pathetic that made her sound. “I didn’t want to lose you. I thought if we moved in, you’d stop paying so much attention to him and pay attention to me.”

“But you didn’t want me to pay so much attention to you, remember?” Rachel bit out. “You wanted to slow down. You were uncertain of your feelings for me.”

“I didn’t want to lose you,” Quinn whispered. “I thought if I asked if we could slow down, you’d break up with me. I couldn’t stand the thought of that.”

“I wouldn’t have broken up with you over that,” Rachel said hotly.

“No,” Quinn acknowledged quietly. “But you would have pulled away. And then you would have been gone. You would have went away and I didn’t want that! I just needed things to slow down but it just kept getting faster and faster and I was so in over my head.” Quinn began to weep and she wiped at her eyes. “But I never wanted to hurt you,” she whispered. “I never ever wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to chase you away.” Her nose began to run and she wiped at it by sweeping the back of her index finger across it. “I needed things to be still for a moment so I could think, but it just snowballed and I kept thinking if I asked if we could slow down, you’d leave me. So I couldn’t say anything.”

Rachel lowered her head and sighed, because that honestly did sound like something she would do.

“I was drunk when I slept with Puck and you know how stupid I get when I get drunk,” Quinn said, her voice shaking. “I thought maybe if I could have one more night with someone else, it’d prove I wanted you over anyone else.” Quinn laughed bitterly. “I proved it to myself,” she said sadly. “Because I am _begging_ you for one more chance. Please,” Quinn pleaded. “Come home and give me one more chance. I can make this right. I can be who you want to be. I’ll do anything you want. Just come home and let us try. We have more to lose if we don’t try! Didn’t our good days outnumber our bad days?”

“Yes,” Rachel whispered, nodding her head slightly. “Yes, they did. If I were to be honest, I’d be able to count our really bad days on just one hand.”

“See?” Quinn asked plaintively. “You said it yourself, all that bad stuff was way outside our norm. Most of the time we were _good_. We can be good again, we can try again if you’d come home.”

“I can’t come home, Quinn.”

“ _Why_?” Quinn asked pleadingly. She couldn’t think of any more ways to ask or beg. What else could she do or say?

“I’m moving,” Rachel said quietly.

Quinn froze. “What?”

“That TV series I told you about last night? The one where I’m the lead?”

“Yeah…”

She remembered Rachel saying she wasn’t going to tell anyone about it until she signed the contract next week.

“It films in LA. I’m moving. I’m leaving, Quinn.”  



	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, people who friended me! Maybe I should only post pieces every day instead of all at once, I don't completely clog your lists? It's totally okay to de-friend cos I take up too much room!

Rachel was twenty-five years old, but the look Quinn was giving her after she informed the blonde about her intent to move to LA made her feel about five. She’d never felt so small.

Quinn wrapped her arms around Rachel. “Don’t leave,” she pleaded. “Please don’t leave. _Come home_.”

“I’m sorry,” Rachel whispered. She patted Quinn gently on the back.

That’s when room service made its untimely presence known with a knock on the door.

\--

Neither of them could eat, and so they left the tray of food untouched.

Rachel got dressed and left the room first.

\--

She wanted to forgive Quinn. In fact, she already had. Forgiveness came in many forms. She’d been enraged the night Quinn confessed her infidelity, but that rage wore off pretty quickly. When Rachel looked back on it, she even found it difficult to connect with the person who’d punched a mahogany desk until the wood splintered and her hands broke. That kind of physical rage wasn’t in her character at all, at least, Rachel never knew it was there. In the past, whenever she got angry, she got on the elliptical or went to the gym and punched a punching bag. Sometimes she just got a few drinks with friends until she stopped being angry.

She’d never actually destroyed anything. She’d never been tempted to utterly destroy a person like she’d been tempted to destroy Quinn. When Rachel reflected on it, she was glad she’d broken both her hands on the desk, because all it cost was eight weeks of very difficult recuperation in which she had to concentrate on basic things like dressing herself and wiping her own ass without causing monumental pain to take her mind off her rage and hurt over Quinn.

She’d been _very_ capable of hurting Quinn that night. In fact, it took every ounce of self-control not to smash her fist into that gorgeous face. Rachel was deeply glad she didn’t because she knew she would have regretted it profoundly. She didn’t trust Quinn anymore and in that moment, she’d _hated_ Quinn more than she’d ever hated anyone in her life. But she never actually wanted to hurt Quinn. The thought she’d even _wanted_ to lay a violent hand on Quinn made her sick with herself and she spent many sleepless nights wondering how such a dark, disgusting urge could have dwelled inside her without her evening knowing.

In the months following their break-up, Rachel wanted nothing more than to believe all those pretty words falling from that pretty mouth. She wanted to throw herself into Quinn’s arms and start all over again.

But she couldn’t trust herself around Quinn anymore and she simply no longer trusted Quinn either. She couldn’t even look at Quinn the same way, and so Rachel continued to stonewall the blonde, hoping Quinn could take the hint.

They stayed apart for _months_. Quinn texted, emailed and called a few times, but Rachel ignored them because she had no idea what to say.

She wanted to say “it’s okay,” but she couldn’t because one, it really wasn’t and two, it would give Quinn false hope and false hope was the worst kind of hope.  
  
It was just better this way, Rachel decided. Quinn deserved better than someone who would constantly be suspicious of her and Rachel felt like she deserved better than someone who cheated on her. But that didn’t stop the ache she felt for Quinn. She couldn’t get the blonde hair or hazel eyes out of her memory. She’d memorized all the different smiles and laughs the blonde had. She’d memorized every texture of skin. Quinn was embarrassed by the miniscule circular scar she had on the right side of her stomach, right on her rib cage. It was a chicken pox scar that sometimes itched maddeningly and Rachel would sometimes come upon the blonde scratching ferociously at it.

“Stop it! It’ll scar,” Rachel teased.

Quinn always looked at her witheringly and scratched even harder out of pure defiance.

Rachel loved kissing that scar because Quinn viewed it as some blemish or imperfection, but Rachel viewed it as another perfect part of Quinn who wasn’t perfect, but was perfect for her. Or so Rachel thought.

Soon after it happened, the few friends who knew the details told her to forgive Quinn. They were all appropriately sympathetic for an appropriately lengthy period of time, but then they all started to encourage her to forgive Quinn.

“Monogamy is unnatural,” Monique told her.

“That’s very comforting to hear from someone who is going to get married soon,” Rachel said dryly.

“Monogamy _is_ unnatural,” Calvin interjected. “When we’re fifty, I plan to trade Monique in for two twenty-five year olds.”

“Oh, baby. Don’t you know that I’m planning on trading you in long before that?” Monique asked breezily.

“You should forgive her,” Crystal said. “Every relationship has at least one infidelity. Gabe forgave me after I cheated on him.”

“You cheat on everyone.”

“Hey!”

“’Hey’, what?”

“I know it’s true, I just felt like I should say ‘hey’ to.”

Rachel rolled her eyes.

“It’s not something you should _have_ to forgive,” Lindsay said. “But maybe it’s something you should be _able_ to forgive. If you love her, maybe that merits your forgiveness.”

“What if she does it again?”

“Then I’ll punch her heart out. But have you thought about what it would be like if she settled down with someone else. Someone who isn’t you?”

“I’ll punch _my_ heart out,” Rachel said darkly.

Lindsay just laughed. “Look, think about it this way. What if something really bad happened to her? Right now you’re being withholding because deep down, you know you have the option to get her back. But what if you didn’t? What if something happened to her, like, she died or something?”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “That was way too melodramatic even for me. Who the hell has that ever happened to?”

“It happened to me,” Lindsay said lightly.

Rachel blanched. “What?”

Lindsay laughed softly, but became serious. “It was my high school boyfriend, Allen. It wasn’t that serious, to be honest. You know how it is in high school, you go out on a few dates and you’re dating, you’re boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“I thought that was middle school,” Rachel teased gently.

Lindsay snorted. “No, in middle school, you share lunch together and like, borrow his eraser and he becomes your boyfriend. Anyway. Allen and I went on a few dates and so I just called him my boyfriend. We were that gross couple who used to walk around with each others’ hands in the back pocket of each other’s jeans.”

Rachel laughed. In high school, that was Santana and Brittany, senior year.

“Anyway. Back then, I didn’t want to put out, so Allen slept with Isabella Garcia instead. I hated that bitch for other reasons. Anyway. I broke up with him and swore I’d never talk to him. I even smacked him in the face in front of everyone at school. We stopped being friends, obviously, but about two years later, he got into a car accident and died during our senior year. I always kind of regretted not patching things up, even though the relationship wasn’t that important to me. I mean, like, literally two weeks after we broke up, I had a new boyfriend that I was making out with in front of lockers and grossing everyone out.”

Rachel was quiet as she contemplated it. The thought of anything happening to Quinn was devastating and of course it made her feel very petty. But she just couldn’t bring herself to say anything.

\--

She said her goodbyes, to her mother, to her sister and to the various friends she’d made over the past few years. She thought about Ryan and wished they could have made it as friends. She’d changed her number multiple times to escape him, had to file multiple police reports. But then one day, he stopped and she was worried that maybe he was dead or in jail again. But no, he just stopped. He met another girl, found a better therapist, got on a more efficacious medication regime and miraculously, he was back to the man he truly was. That didn’t mean Rachel could accept him back into her life-- she couldn’t. But she kept tabs on him and she was gratified to hear he was doing well.

She felt his absence at her goodbye party, but it wasn’t painful. The expression on Quinn’s face, however, was painful because it was so close to begging her to putting a stop to all this and just go back home. But instead, she just pulled Quinn into a quick hug. “We’re better as friends, Quinn,” she whispered. “I really think we can get that right. Try being friends, okay?”

“Okay,” Quinn said quietly.

But Rachel felt like an asshole because she could see that it hurt Quinn to hear that. But Rachel felt like she had to say it.

Beth cried when she left and Rachel felt awful for it. She’d discussed it with Shelby and they’d agreed to tell Beth about the true nature of their relationship, and so Rachel leaned down and pulled Beth into a hug.

“I’ve got a secret,” Rachel murmured. “You’re my baby sister,” she declared. “That means I can’t ever go away forever. Big sisters aren’t allowed to go away forever. Don’t even waste your time missing me, because I’ll be back _really_ soon, sweetheart.”

Beth beamed at her. “Of course you’re my sister. Mommy said you’re family.”

Rachel chuckled. Shelby would have to explain it all to Beth later, but it was true. They were family. She would never call Shelby ‘mom’-- she just couldn’t feel that connection. She had no frame of reference for maternal affection. But that didn’t change the fact Beth and Shelby were family.

Her fathers were men who weren’t always good people or even good fathers, but they’d tried to be good to her. But she realized that though she started with a very small family-- just her and her two dads, her family had expanded exponentially.

She’d always known her life would get better after high school, but she never could have predicted all the different ways it became so worth living-- something she’d had a lot of doubts about as a teenager, even if she’d loathed to admit it even to herself.

\--

She kept her apartment in the city so she could have a place to stay when she went back to New York during hiatuses and other breaks. She still considered New York City to be home and she planned to return to it permanently one day because the stage and New York were two of her first loves. But she found a new apartment in LA, bonded with her cast mates and endured eyeroll-worthy jokes from lame interviewers about being ‘bicoastal’ which was really just a transparent attempt to get the non-existent lurid details of her non-existent romantic relationships.

\--

She’d been gone for two months when she returned back to her apartment after work. She caught a flash of blonde hair by her door as she got out of her elevator, but she ignored it. It was April and she thought of Quinn constantly because it was the blonde’s birthday month.

Except that woman hanging outside her apartment was Quinn.

Rachel approached her cautiously.

“Quinn?”

“Hi,” Quinn said, getting up and putting her Kindle inside her purse. “Monique gave me your address.”

“Uh, I would have given it to you if you’d just asked. Are you in town for business?”

Rachel really had no idea why Quinn would be in town for ‘business’ because really, as Senior Financial Analyst, Quinn didn’t have to travel for work.

“I moved to LA,” Quinn said softly.

Rachel’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“I moved to LA,” Quinn repeated. She smiled and slowly approached Rachel and gently shut Rachel’s jaw which was still gaping. “You are the love of my life,” Quinn declared. “And I can’t win you back if you’re thousands of miles away.”

“Quinn, you just uprooted your whole life and…”

“I know you might never forgive me. I know we may not ever get back together. And I can accept that if I have to. But that was a chance I was willing to take because I _never_ would have stood a chance so far away.”

“This was so reckless,” Rachel protested. She felt weak in the knees. Quinn just uprooted her entire life and moved across the country. What was _wrong_ with her? How could Quinn be so reckless and foolish? And she was so angry at that cocky smile on Quinn’s face, like this big, grand gesture would make everything okay.

“If you weren’t going to come home, I needed to bring home to you,” Quinn said softly. “And it wasn’t so reckless. It’s Bank of America, Rachel. And LA is just a really weird part of America. The transfer was really easy.

This…this was too much.

“Quinn, you just played Russian roulette with your life! How could you do this to yourself?”

Quinn’s smile faltered for a moment, but only for a moment. “It was a chance I was willing to take, I told you.”

“It’s like you put five bullets in the gun, Quinn and just left the one cylinder empty.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow. “You know a lot more about this game than I do.”

“I know a lot more about a lot of things than you do, Quinn.”

Quinn snorted. “Mostly trivia. Didn’t I tell you once that we’d be great at Trivial Pursuit if we teamed up?” she asked, tilting her head to the right to intently regard Rachel.

Rachel laughed softly. “You did,” she agreed. She let out a long breath. “This was a big gamble,” she said quietly. “It’s a long shot.”

“A long shot is better than no shot,” Quinn said quietly. “And you know when you play with guns, there’s always a chance of some ricochet of fate. I’m hoping maybe fate can be on my side.”

Rachel swallowed hard. “That’s a big maybe…”

“But you aren’t saying no,” Quinn pointed out softly.

Rachel looked away and then gazed at the ground. She was speechless for once. She had no idea how to feel about this. She wanted to castigate Quinn for doing this, for not getting the message. She wanted to shake Quinn by the shoulders and ask how she could do such a stupid thing for a girl, even if the girl was her. But she couldn’t say those things and mean them, so she didn’t say anything at all.

“I live a couple blocks away,” Quinn murmured. “And I’m going to go now. But I’m just letting you know I’m not giving up without a fight. You’ve always been worth fighting for, Rachel. And even if we don’t get back together, you need to know you’re worth the fight.”

Quinn began to walk away, but Rachel grabbed her by the arm.

“Quinn.”

Quinn froze and she stared at Rachel. She didn’t look so cocky. She actually looked worried and afraid, like she was scared Rachel would tell her never to come back.

And in that moment, Rachel didn’t see the woman who broke her heart.

She saw the girl she fell in love with when she was sixteen and never really stopped loving.

“Have you eaten yet?” Rachel asked.

Quinn shook her head.

“Come inside. We can order in.”

Quinn flashed a brilliant smile. “Okay. Thanks.”

Rachel opened the door to her apartment, hit the light switch and held the door open for Quinn to enter. “This is home.”

Quinn stepped inside and looked around. She smiled when she turned back to Rachel. “It’s very you,” she declared with a fond smile.

Rachel smiled back. “Welcome to the neighborhood,” she said softly.

Quinn grinned back. “Thanks.”

She wanted to say “welcome home,” but saying things too early, pushing for things to go too quickly was kind of how they got into this mess. So Rachel didn’t say it, because really, even if she did, she was only half-sure she’d mean it. She still had a lot to sort out when it came to Quinn and she was certain Quinn had a lot to sort out when it came to her, too.

But it was okay.

They still had time to make it.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> 1:http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/67087.html  
> 2:http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/67389.html  
> 3:http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/67621.html  
> 4a: http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/68058.html  
> 4b: http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/68242.html  
> 5a: http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/68493.html  
> 5b: http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/68609.html  
> 6: http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/68985.html  
> 7: http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/69371.html  
> 8a: http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/69521.html  
> 8b: http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/69667.html  
> 9: http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/69949.html


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